Harry Potter and the Rest of His Life
by TheHouseKey
Summary: Dreams plague Harry Potter since that fateful day of loosing the one he loved. When strangers enter the Wizarding World, how will Harry cope when both remind him so strongly of those he lost? Sequel to Harry Potter and the Falling Stars.
1. My Last Breath

A man, deep in sleep, heard music in the background of his dream. He knew this dream. He'd been having this particular dream for three years.

The music was faint, the scene distinct. He was in a house, an old house. He was in the dungeon of the house when he first heard the music. He made a decision to find it. It sounded like rock. He walked up the stairs and heard the music more clear. He was desperate to find it.

'_Hold on to me, love,  
__You know I can't stay long,  
__All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid,  
__Can you hear me?  
__Can you feel me in your arms?_'__

He thought it was in the parlor. He walked slowly, checking each room, wishing to see the source of the music…

'_Holding my last breath,  
__Safe inside myself,  
__Are all my thoughts of you,  
__Sweet raptured light,  
__It ends here, tonight,_'

He was getting closer; he knew he was. A small tendril of ebony hair fell in front of his startling green eyes. He brushed it away in a rush. He knew he would soon find the source of this haunting music that beckoned to him.

He opened the door to a parlor, blackened with age. He saw a shadow, standing sadly in front of the fire. He saw long, dark hair falling in front of the shadow's face, like a hood.

'_Closing your eyes to disappear,_'

Was this the source of that music? It seemed to be generating from the shadow. He stepped closer.

The shadow turned around, and he saw the face of death. It was emaciated, and without clear features. It was blurred, yet he could tell that someone he knew, someone he loved, was buried beneath the cold shell that was the shadow. He seemed to catch that one glimpse that assured his thinking.

He clutched the shadow, and felt his world turn upside down. He knew who the shadow was. But did the shadow know him? His light, golden and radiant, burst forth and around the two of them as time sped away. Forward, or back, he never would have known. Now the shadow was embracing back, and silver light mixed with gold.

'_You pray your dreams will leave you here,_'

He started, and in doing so, woke up. '_Was it all a dream_?' he thought. '_It seemed so real_.' He could still hear the last notes of the music…

'_But still you wake and know the truth,  
__No one's there,  
__  
Say goodnight,  
__Don't be afraid,  
__Calling me, calling me as you fade to black._'

And with that, Harry Potter faded to the black of dreamless sleep.

(A/N: HOLY COW I FOUND IT!!! WAHOO!!! I FOUND MY STORY THAT WAS LOST IN THE DEPTHS OF THE UNREACHABLE D DRIVE! -no, I did not get my D drive back, so anyone who wished Harry Potter and Found Love to come back can keep wishing.- -Chesire Cat Grin- Hope you liked this small chapter. Next one up soon! Review please!)


	2. The Man Who Killed Evry1 He Loved

When he woke up the next morning, he found a brilliant sun sending beams telling of the dawn through his drab navy curtains. He grumbled wordlessly as he shifted to keep that blasted sun out of his eyes. It was so damn cheery. How could the sun rise and set each day for the past three years, not knowing that the world's _savior_ was grieving as though he had destroyed Voldemort yesterday?

Harry Potter happened to have the day off, so he could sulk to his heart's content in bed. If he had a choice, he'd never leave it, always drifting from reality to dreamland peacefully. Well, as peacefully as he could, anyway. He knew he had had the same dream for the past three years, but every once and awhile, he would forget that particular one, and remember a different one. This dream is most of the time very pleasant. But it was this dream Harry hated most. For when he awoke, he realized more fully what could have been, had he not been so stupid as not to notice Dumbledore's sadness and Elizabeth's distance.

Oh, now he knew that Elizabeth had known about her death beforehand, but he didn't blame her for not telling him. No, he blamed Dumbledore. Dumbledore was really becoming quite aggravating. He had caused two deaths that needn't have happened. Harry shook his head as a lump caught in his throat at the thought of Sirius.

He pictured them both in heaven. Both smiling. Both happy. They were waving at him, laughing as though a joke was told before Harry saw them. Sirius had a hair cut and Elizabeth was looking radiant. Then this picture would vanish, and be replaced by a picture of a depressed Sirius, and Elizabeth trying to comfort him with tears in her own eyes. Either way Harry thought about it would still make him feel very alone. Ron and Hermione were still there, but they were so wrapped up in each other, there was no room for Harry left. Or maybe Harry didn't want them to make room for him. He was satisfied with his solitary life. Sure, girls had tried to get him to open up, but only after they opened up to him. Not meaning about their lives, either.

'_I need a drink_,' Harry thought as he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He got up and walked to his kitchen. Alcohol had become his best friend. He didn't notice how close he was to becoming an alcoholic. He normally didn't drink enough to get stupid, but just enough to feel the pain slip away to the netherworld.

Reflecting back on all the memories, he took out a bottle of fire whiskey. He sat down on his couch and opened the bottle. '_Here's to the Man-Who-Fucking-Killed-Everyone-He-Loved,_' he thought sarcastically as he swigged straight from the bottle. And he drank until he passed out on his couch.

Ron Weasley opened Harry's door and saw him lying on the couch in his living room. Shock stunned him for a minute. Harry never left his door unlocked. He rushed to his best friend. "Harry?" he called quietly, walking right by him. When Harry didn't stir, Ron called louder. He continued until Harry woke up.

"What do you want?" Harry asked shortly. He didn't have a headache, but his eyes burned. As always, he felt hollow, like he was not a whole person.

"I've got a letter from Professor Dumbledore. Seems Death Eaters are still roaming the wizarding world," Ron explained.

"Great. What do I care about this for?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"He wants us to work together to find the Death Eater that was sighted at Diagon Alley. He specifically asked for you and me. You, because of your Auror training, and me, because I know what the inmates would look like—"

"What makes you think that I'd want to go looking for this Death Eater?" What was making him so difficult, today? Maybe the fact that he was supposed to be _relaxing_ and then Ron comes into his flat, uninvited, and tells him of this _mission_ Dumbledore wants them to do out of the blue.

"It's not just one, Harry. Azkaban had a major breakout. How the older ones got out is beyond me, but I think it has something to do with the Anhelo Potion."

"And my department is alright with this?" Harry asked languidly. He wanted them not to be okay with it. He _was_ part of the big picture in the fight between good and evil, but not anymore. He didn't want anything to do with the rest of the world, now. He deliberately went into a division that had very little legwork and dueling. Though thousands were disappointed, the division of Tracking and Location were thrilled to have him be part of their team.

"Dumbledore has set it all up. We have a year to find all the Death Eaters and their new recruits."

"How can they have new recruits? Voldemort's been gone…" Harry's eyes glazed over as he stopped speaking. Pain in his chest felt like it would explode. Talking about it is so much harder than just thinking. When one thought, one could tell oneself anything, and believe it. But when one spoke, it would become set in stone. It was not able to be taken back.

Ron, seeing Harry's unease, sighed as he thought about what he could do for him. "Think about it. You need to do something else besides mope and do paper work, Harry. Getting moving is something that might just help you out of this stage of chronic depression you've sunk into."

Harry looked at Ron with a kind of dead stare. "Chronic Depression? What do you know about chronic depression? Unless I'm mistaken, Hermione's not dead, so you can't begin to feel what I feel—"

It was so much scarier because he was saying this without feeling. Ron suppressed a shudder. "Look, mate, it's been three years. You've got to have made some progress with getting over her. I know you're still mad and hurt and all those things, but the world moved on. It's time you have, too." Ron shot Harry one last glance before walking out the door.

(A/N: I wonder if my title works...This was supposed to be called Harry Potter and the Rest of His Adult Life, but I guess the little monkeys that operate don't like having the word Adult in the title....but that's my thought on why it didn't work. Ummm...Told you this chapter would be up soon. And it's a _tad_ longer! -big grin-. I have two reviewers! yay! Go me!!

**Elusive Critic**:Review boxes are retards! They don't allow repeated characters. So I didn't see your exact marks -cries-. Thank you for reviewing! Yay! I got someone who knows what they're doing reviewing, again! Ummm...I hope that you do know that this is a sequel, and that there are two stories before this. If you don't want to read them, that's fine, but just be prepared to be _very_ confused!

**Tekvah Ariel**: Welcome back! I explain my title dilemma above. Much gratitude for you for leaving a review! That chapter was supposed to be odd, but I bet you'll think this one is more odd. -big grin- you rock!

If you're wondering why the heck Harry's feeling like this, read Harry Potter and Secrets Untold, and then Harry Potter and the Falling Stars. Then you can review them! I like reviews! -lopsided grin as walking away-)


	3. Living Dead

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mad-eye Moody, an old Auror, asked the man who stood beside him.

"Of course," that man replied. His name was Harry Potter. He'd lived a life more terrible than most. His peridot green eyes spoke of intangible loss and his face drooped with unnecessary grief over the years.

His messy raven black hair hadn't been tamed; it could never be, anyway. Harry Potter's lightening bolt scar on his forehead would always be there to remind him of the horrors he'd lived through at such a young age. The scar, before three years ago, would hurt on occasion, warning him or telling him the Dark Lord, Voldemort's, feelings. It was just a relic, a memento, now, to tell the world what he'd done, what he'd learned. Voldemort had been deceased for over three years, and Harry wasn't quite yet ready to believe it.

Before Voldemort had been destroyed by the magic of the Falling Stars, Harry had found the love of his life. Just his luck, of course, she turned out to be one of the Falling Stars, and in order to use her power, she had to die. She was killed by Wormtail, one of Harry's father's former friends, before Harry knew she had to die.

Without her, or the other Falling Stars, Voldemort would still be alive. Harry knew he had to go on, but it wasn't easy when everyone who knew his father as a friend from Hogwarts was now dead. His godfather, Sirius Black, was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange five years ago; Remus Lupin, killed by Wormtail, four years ago; Severus Snape, killed by Lucius Malfoy, last year; and Wormtail, though he hadn't wanted him alive, killed by the Falling Stars magic, died three years ago.

After living three years of nothing but drugs, booze, sex, and studying, Harry Potter was little more than a shell. Knowing that those four things didn't quite match up, he still lived that way until his last year with his mentorship ended. He was a full-fledged auror, now, and he couldn't continue to live the lifestyle from before.

He couldn't have cared less.

Here Harry was, in Diagon Alley, looking for estranged Death Eaters. They had escaped from Azkaban, which was under the guard of dragons. They had escaped severely wounded, but with magic the way it was going, they were probably fine the next day.

They were a danger to anyone who came across their path. Bent upon bringing their most beloved sport back, muggle torment and muggleborn torture, they tried to dispose of any wizard who they thought would get in their way.

"Ron, you've got to help him. He knows not of what most of the escapees look like, now. You do. Charlie's training of you in Romania was an excellent career choice, Mr. Weasley," Moody complemented. Some people got old and mean. Moody got old and nice. Not easy-going, just nice.

"Thank you, sir. I wanted to do something with dragons, after I dropped out of Auror training, but I just didn't seem to know what. Then I heard they were looking for dragon keepers at Azkaban, and it was a dream come true," Ronald Weasley replied to the old man.

"So, that gave you chance to look upon the faces of the escapees, correct?" Moody asked. He hadn't noticed he was making no sense.

"Yes, as you said so, before, Moody," Ron gently reminded. Moody's memory had been going, bit by little bit, so he couldn't remember what he said five minutes ago.

"Well, get going, then, lads. We'll be counting on you," Moody said before disapparating.

"Harry, if you were a fugitive from Azkaban, where would you go?" Ron inquired once the old auror was gone.

"I'm not certain. I'd want to be surrounded by people," Harry commented lifelessly, scanning the crowd.

His eyes laid upon a dark stranger, one whom he'd never seen before, at least, not in this time. As he studied him, he noticed he looked a lot like one of his father's old friends from Hogwarts.

"Ron, I think I've just seen Sirius," Harry stated to his red-haired friend.

"Harry," Ron sighed, "You didn't see Sirius. Sirius is gone; he has been for the last five years. Get your head together if you want this mission."

"Alright," Harry groaned. He wanted to talk with that stranger who reminded him of his godfather before he went to Azkaban.

They looked and searched, but found no Death Eaters. The lead they were supposedly following had been a fake, and someone obviously wanted them to lose their trail.

That's about the time another alien entered Diagon Alley.

The person didn't know how they got there. All they remembered was suddenly being in front of a brick wall. They took out their wand, and tapped the bricks in an order that meant nothing to them.

Truth was, everything meant nothing to this foreigner. They didn't know who they were, what they were doing here, with a wand at their side, and no sense of anything around them.

They entered Diagon Alley, looking, as though searching for the answers. They saw the back of a man's head with a shock of messy black hair, and their stomach did a somersault. They couldn't think of one reason why, except that that person might be a part of their past. They decided to follow discreetly, as he already appeared to be tailed by a handsome man with hard gray eyes.

Harry couldn't help but notice the stranger from before oddly following them, as though he thought they wouldn't notice.

They were about to leave when the stranger approached Harry.

"Are you Harry Potter?" he asked. He had black hair, a little longer than most, but not too unruly. His face was handsome with hard gray eyes.

"I am," Harry replied tentatively.

"I'm James. When did Sirius Black die?" the man asked shakily. He looked about three years older than Harry.

"He died about five years ago," Harry informed. He watched as the man almost collapsed, but caught himself.

"Who did it?" James asked.

"A woman by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange. He was killed in a duel," Harry replied, knowing the man's next question.

"Is Bellatrix Lestrange still alive?" James inquired morbidly.

"I believe so. We came over here by way of a lead. The man told us he'd thought he saw an old Death Eater and we…"

"That was I," James informed Ron and Harry. "I called and gave you the lead. I couldn't think of any other way to get you over here, Harry."

"Why?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Because, Harry, my full name is James Sirius Black," James introduced.


	4. The Cracking of the Shell Starts

"But you weren't on the Black family tree," Harry commented.

"Because no one in the Black family knew about me. My mother was a muggle, so my father kept it secret," James explained.

"And who, exactly, is your father?" Ron inquired curiously.

"One of the Marauders of Hogwarts, the one they called Padfoot, the escaped convict who was innocent, the one they named Sirius Black," James explained dramatically.

"Sirius was your _father_?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, and he was a good one, up until that Halloween in Godric's Hollow," James remarked sadly.

"What happened to you? Sirius escaped from Azkaban seven years ago," Harry questioned.

"As soon as the ministry of magic learned my father killed those people, they shipped me off to Spain. They sent me to a bloody British orphanage in Spain," James replied angrily.

"When did you get out? Surely they couldn't keep you there past the age of seventeen," Harry commented.

"Obviously you don't know the people who ran Merlin's Orphanage for the Underprivileged British child," James said coolly. "Do you know what it's like? Lying there, trying to get a glimpse of the news from your world, while you're stuck somewhere else? Not knowing what could be happening? Not knowing if your father is dead or alive or completely insane? I lived through hell in that orphanage. Then I came back, looking for my father when I read in the Daily Prophet about his name being cleared. That last sentence sent my head spinning," James ranted.

"I see. Well, I'm very sorry about your father. But why didn't he look for you once he escaped?" Harry asked. Surely, Sirius would have retrieved the boy. In the back of Harry's mind, a few of the statements James had made sounded a bit familiar.

"He had no clue where I was. He didn't know my mother died, and so he thought I was still living with her. He went to check out the house, but turned out, it looked old and decrepit. He couldn't very well go up to the neighbors and ask, 'Have you seen a boy with black hair and gray eyes around here, lately?' He figured I was dead, so he gave up. I imagine that since he had you, Harry, that stopped him from going into the stupor of depression," James explained.

James, Harry, and Ron went to get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, when Harry thought he saw another dead person. He couldn't be sure because she had sunglasses and her hair was lighter, with five gray sections in her hair, with the sort of light brown separating the gray.

"Harry, have you seen someone else?" Ron asked accusingly. He saw Harry wouldn't take his eyes away from a certain spot by the Magical Menagerie.

"I…" Harry trailed off. He knew, _it had to be her, it just had to be…In her letter, she suggested she'd come back…it's just got to be her…_

"Harry!" Ron shouted as he grabbed him. He was starting to walk away.

"Let go of me…" Harry said. When he realized it was futile to fight, he stopped struggling.

"You think you saw Elizabeth, didn't you?" Ron questioned. The hope and disappointment in Harry's eyes was almost too much to watch, even if it was the only emotion his eyes had portrayed since that one day after a run-in with the Falling Stars magic…

Harry just nodded, slightly embarrassed about his reaction. His face had become devoid of feeling once more. "Ron, I've been seeing her everywhere. I can't seem to stop thinking about her, and Sirius, and Remus, and even Snape."

"Next, you'll be telling me you see Remus. It's all right to think about the dead, Harry. It's not all right to see them, and believe they are alive, when they're not," Ron explained gently.

Harry looked at Ron. '_He'll never understand_,' he thought, '_No one ever will, again._'

The foreigner swallowed a lump in their throat as they walked near the Magical Menagerie. The man the stranger was following had noticed them. He wouldn't stop staring at them. They didn't know why, but knew that he recognized them. The stranger heard him refer to them as a woman, with the name, Elizabeth. So, the stranger realized that she was a woman. Her name might be Elizabeth, she couldn't be sure. She followed the man until they went back outside the brick wall into the building in front of it.

Harry, Ron, and James sat down at a table in the Leaky Cauldron and talked to James about his life. Harry wasn't exactly paying attention until James mentioned Harry's parents.

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked incredulous.

"Of course. Father took me to your house in Godric's Hollow about three times a week," James explained.

Harry nodded, and scanned the pub.

His breath caught in his throat as he seen the girl who looked like Elizabeth with lighter hair and the weird gray streaks enter the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hey, yeah. A butterbeer, please," she ordered with an American accent he knew so well. "Thanks a lot," she said as she tossed the bartender a couple of sickles.

She didn't remove her sunglasses, though she was inside. She sipped her butterbeer thoughtfully, as though trying to remember another time where she drank butterbeer.

Harry's heart painfully rapped against his chest. '_If it is Elizabeth_,' Harry mused, '_she'll remember one of our trips to Hogsmeade._'

"Harry, mate, are you okay? You keep turning around," Ron said.

Harry was startled and looked at Ron. "I'm fine," he answered a little too quickly.

"Might as well tell me what's wrong," Ron coaxed.

"Alright… I swear, that woman by the bar looks an awful lot like Elizabeth." His face became determined.

Ron glanced over by the woman who swallowed butterbeer broodingly. "I'll admit, she sort of looks like her. But Elizabeth doesn't have that color hair. She's not dumb enough to wear sunglasses inside, either," Ron commented.

"Whatever," Harry said as he went back to his drink. He'd know Elizabeth from anywhere, and, as far as he was concerned, that woman at the bar was she.

They got up to leave, when Harry pulled away and went to go talk to the lady who was still sitting at the bar.

"Hello," Harry said casually.

"Hey," the woman responded with a half smile. Her stomach tumbled again. Why did this man want to talk to her? She would've went up to his group once they left the pub, but this was unexpected.

"I'm Harry Potter. I haven't seen you around here, before. Where're you from?" Harry asked congenially. He already knew the answer, but she didn't seem to recognize him.

"The US, I think. I talk like I'm from there, don't I?" she responded questioningly.

"You mean, you don't know?" Harry inquired.

"Not really. I think I've been in some sort of an accident. You know, the ones where you lose your memory or something. I can still write; I'm pretty sure I know how to use this wooden stick-thing at my side; I can still talk; I remember this place, but not the faces of the people; I know how to use the currency in my pocket, but I've no clue of my name or my past," she explained.

"You don't know your own name?" Harry questioned her. She shook her head.

"Harry!" Ron called. He'd figured out Harry was gone when they were about to go back to muggle London.

"Ron, I think it's Elizabeth," Harry responded, glancing at him.

"Harry, look, you can't go talking to women who looks a little bit like your old girlfriend…"

"You think I'm whom?" the woman asked Harry. '_I might be his old girlfriend_,' she thought.

"This person I used to know. She's been gone for the last three years…"

"Ruddy straight she's been gone. She's been _dead_ for the last three years," Ron interrupted angrily as he grabbed Harry to pull him out of the seat. "Very sorry about this, ma'am, but he's still a little lovesick over this one person's death," Ron apologized.

"Ron, listen, even if she isn't Elizabeth, she's lost her memory. She doesn't even know who she is. We should try to help her," Harry suggested.

Ron sighed at his best friend. He shook his head in thought. He weighed the options. It had been a long time since Harry cared about something enough to actually try to persuade him, Ron, into something he didn't want to do. "Fine. She can come with us, back to Hogwarts," he said finally. "Until she knows who she is, don't you go planting thoughts in her head that she really _is_ Elizabeth," Ron added.

Harry nodded and turned toward the woman. "Would you like to come with us?" he asked her.

She thought about it. "Sure," she answered finally.

They took her with them to King's Cross station to platform 9 3/4 because they didn't know if she could apparate, and they couldn't apparate to Hogwarts, anyway.

(A/N: Well, I'm not even looking this over anymore, I'm just posting it. Hope you like it, and thanks to all who reviewed. In my haste to update, I will not be thanking you all individually, but you're mentioned briefly here. **Thanks again to Tekvah Ariel, Harryandginnyforever, and the Elusive Critic**.)


	5. Eyes That Reflect the World

They got inside the old castle and Harry felt at ease to be back, no matter how much crud happened there in the past.

They went straight to the headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore was still going strong.

"Acid Pops," Harry said. The stone gargoyle spun around and a stair case was revealed.

The woman, who they thought would look amazed, didn't look nonplussed. James, however, stared agape at the gargoyle.

"Right this way," Harry led the lady. The four of them went up the staircase.

Harry went in, then Ron. They figured they'd tell Dumbledore about the two people before they showed themselves.

"Harry, Ron, how are you?" Professor Dumbledore asked once the two were through the door.

"We're fine, Professor. We have a problem…well, a couple of problems. Seems Sirius had a son, and we have a woman who's lost her memory," Ron explained before Harry could say that he found Elizabeth. He hated the fact that it might not be her, and it would be like losing her all over again for Harry.

Ron knew that that was the worst thing in the world for Harry. To lose someone twice over. That was what made him take Sirius' death so badly. He'd thought he could see him again on two different occasions, one each one, he'd been disappointed, _again_. With Lupin, he had thought he was safe from _Avada Kadavra_, but even that was one big letdown. Harry had talked with Elizabeth right after she had died, for she was a Falling Star, and she was in his head. Notice the words, 'in his head.' He couldn't keep her there. Overall, Ron would have been surprised if Harry wasn't the cold, emotionless carcass he was.

"Really? Well, bring them in," Dumbledore requested. He knew they were waiting outside his door.

Harry ushered them in. Dumbledore's ominous glance at the woman worried him.

"You don't remember a thing about yourself?" Dumbledore asked the woman.

She shook her head, wondering why people were asking this so many times.

Dumbledore sighed before turning to James. "You are?" he asked, looking at him.

"James Black, sir," he introduced.

"Ah, I'd wondered if you were alive, James. Your father talked many a time about the life he had before that Halloween," Dumbledore explained.

Harry noticed Dumbledore kept the discussion away from the odd woman who looked so much like Elizabeth. She still hadn't taken her sunglasses off. Harry admitted to himself she looked sort of menacing in her attire. Her sunglasses were sleek, her face set with an unknown emotion. Her black trench coat swirled around her as she walked. She had black leather pants and stiletto boots. She stood tall with her dented chin turned slightly upward.

Once James had told Dumbledore everything he'd told Harry and Ron, Dumbledore summoned a house-elf to take him to the guest wing for his bedroom.

"Now, what to do with Miss Pentillo," Dumbledore commented.

Ron's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Sir, this can't possible be…"

"Ron, I'm afraid it is. Now, my dear, your name is Elizabeth Pentillo," Dumbledore added, turning to Elizabeth.

She just shrugged like it meant nothing to her.

Harry stood there, with thoughts of, '_I knew it. I _knew_ it_,' resounding in his head. He found his thought becoming more familiar to him, more _feeling_ than anything.

"But why is her hair different colors?" Ron asked. He remembered Elizabeth had very dark brown hair, not this slightly red-medium brown hair with five gray streaks.

"Obviously, she lived…no, wait, lived is not the right word…she went through some very hard things once she passed on…"

"What do you mean? I passed on?" Elizabeth interrupted. She had no idea what they were talking about.

"Sorry, I can not explain anything at the moment. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. This should not have happened! I told them to let you keep your memory! I must go have a talk with them. Elizabeth, I know it might make your head hurt to think about your past, but do try to remember the real important things," Dumbledore instructed, throwing a glance at Harry before standing up and heading out of the room.

"Now, what?" Ron asked, once the headmaster was gone.

"Who was he talking about when he said, 'they'?" Harry questioned.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" Ron inquired at Elizabeth.

"Would you people stop talking to me like I'm a little lost eleven year old? I'm quite certain I remember nothing…" she paused and the look she gave Ron changed into concentration, "except…something…an old house…a laughing smile…rolling on the grass…pretending…" Elizabeth trailed off. She closed her eyes and a look of pain shot across her face.

Once again, Harry's stomach reeled. '_She's thinking about our first Hogsmeade visit, in our seventh year_,' he thought sadly. Though no one was doing anything, Harry's detached, defensive shell was cracking.

Then, an old house-elf appeared in front of them.

"Dobby?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir. 'Tis Dobby, sir. Harry Potter and other sir, and miss are to follow Dobby to Gryffindor Tower where they are to sleep until headmaster figures out what ails miss," the house-elf replied.

They stayed silent the whole way.

"Elizabeth?" Harry called once they were in Gryffindor tower.

"You're calling me, right?" she answered as she poked her head from around the corner. She still had her sunglasses on.

"Yes, I am, Elizabeth," Harry replied, trying to get her used to hearing her name.

"Okay, then. What d'you need?" she asked.

"May I ask you to try to remember more of that day with the old house, the laughing smile, and all you said before?" Harry requested.

"I'll try, but that old man was right, it makes my head hurt," Elizabeth agreed. She sat down on one of the chairs, closed her eyes, and tried to reminisce.

Images in her head blurred as she tried to recall what he was asking.

"Oh, but I am," said the faceless person with a laughing smile. All she could see was his smile and she could feel the happiness.

She remembered they exchanged a few more words, but she didn't know what they were. Suddenly, she felt giddy. She realized that she and the faceless person were feeling mirth.

Then she felt the seriousness of herself, the intensity of what she said next, though she didn't know what it was, the butterflies floating around her stomach. She then remembered passion, something she couldn't define besides.

Though Harry couldn't see, she had opened her eyes. Her head was pounding, but at least, now, she was remembering facial expressions, if not the entire face.

She felt so exhausted. She'd entered Diagon Alley for answers, as was her way to not just sit and wonder, and now she was in some castle, sitting near someone who made her feel uncomfortable and something else she didn't understand.

"God, did I really die?" she asked him after a moment.

"Yes," Harry answered depressingly.

"How?" Elizabeth asked, a little surprised to hear she did.

"You were killed," Harry explained heavily.

"Then wouldn't I still be dead?" Elizabeth thought out loud.

"Technically, yes. No one knows why you're back, except for Dumbledore," Harry explained.

"Dumbledore…Dumbledore. Who is that?" Elizabeth inquired.

"The old man we talked to earlier," Harry replied, confused that she didn't at least remember Dumbledore.

"Oh, the one with the really long beard and semi-circle, gold-rimmed glasses?"

Harry affirmed it.

"You said your name is Harry, right? Am I supposed to remember you?" Elizabeth asked.

Harry didn't say anything.

They sat in uneasy silence. Nothing happened until Harry asked, "Well, I imagine they'll have dinner prepared. Would you like to go?"

Elizabeth didn't notice, before, but now she realized she was very hungry. "I'd love to," she responded softly with a smile.

They got Ron, and the three of them went downstairs to the Great Hall.

James, who was speechless at the ceiling, wandered into the Great Hall a half hour after dinner had started.

"Why do you wear those glasses?" Ron questioned.

"I don't really remember. I think someone handed them to me right before I entered Diagon Alley. ('_How'd I know the name to that place?'_ she thought as she spoke) They said my eyes would cause havoc. Since it really wasn't a sunny day, I bewitched them to just look like they blocked out light. I don't know where I learned it, but I am very adept at magic," Elizabeth explained.

"You learned it, here," Dumbledore reassured her. There were so little people over, there was one table set up, and everyone was within regular talking distance.

"This place is a school?" Elizabeth asked, shocked.

"Of course, it is. This is Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore explained gently, as if coaxing her to recollect the two years she'd been there.

"Hogwarts…" Elizabeth repeated. She tried to remember it, but all she could remember was red and gold hangings.

"We won't judge you by your eyes. Could you please take the glasses off?" James requested curiously.

"But…oh, well," Elizabeth conceded. She took them off and Harry felt like all the wind was knocked out of him.

They were no longer the dark, mysterious brown that made him feel like he was spinning, now they looked like an astronaut's view of the world.

Each one of her eyes held the green and brown of the earth's above sea level land from space, the blue of the surrounding water that covered the seventy percent of the earth's surface, and the navy of space behind earth. It even had the clouds in the atmosphere. In the dark, dark blue outline, there were very little white dots, as though stars. In the center of what looked like the third planet from the sun, was her pupil, a black dot.

"Of _course_," Dumbledore muttered.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"I should have known. Why I didn't realize it, before…" Dumbledore continued to murmur.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Harry questioned Dumbledore.

"They just made another blunder," Dumbledore replied. Harry could tell he was getting annoyed with 'them', whoever 'they' were.

'_This is one odd bunch of people_,' Elizabeth thought, '_I wonder if they'll ever send me home, wherever home is, with my memory intact_.'

Dinner came and went and Elizabeth found herself so tired, she didn't even feel her legs moving as she walked to Gryffindor Tower to sleep.

"Harry, are all right? You seem so stressed," Ron commented.

"Yes, well, wouldn't you be, too, if your old girlfriend comes back, and she doesn't even remember you?" Harry replied shortly.

"Yeah…if you need to talk to someone, I'm always here for you, Harry," Ron reminded as he went to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Well, who can honestly say that they're surprised by this flood of updates? -oo me!- I'm not talking to you, Alternate Ego. Sorry. -sweatdrop- Anyway. Hope you like this. I understand that it's not as good as anything else I've written, but that's only because I need to rewrite three times like I did _Secrets Untold_ in order for it to be that good. I'll do review replies now. Please, feel free to say anything you like, and don't ever feel obligated to cut off your reviews!!!

**Tekvah Ariel:** Ostrich? Cuz that's not odd…-sarcastically- jk. I know you don't like the James thing but I needed something to soothe my denial, so I made a compremise. If I have James, then I won't drag Sirius from his grave and do a Pettigrew to bring him to life. :-p. Thanks for reviewing, and enjoy this mysterious chapter! :-D

**Harryandginnyforever:** That's alright. The great thing is that you're reviewing. Thanks for that, and I hope you like this chapter!

While this isn't the greatest story in the world, it all has a purpose, I promise you. So…bear with me through this one, and you might get something better at the end. ;-) REVIEW!!! I'd appreciate it…A WHOLE BUNCH! :-)


	6. Rereading the Letter

Elizabeth might have left the Great Hall with every intention of sleeping, but that was the one thing she didn't do. Random images played like movies in her mind, as she struggled to remember the entire scene.

"When I'm feeling particularly emotional, I tell people I think it's my fault, but the truth is…I just _miss _him…" a voice sobbed in front of her.

Everything else after that was a little hazy, but then she recalled, with acute precision, the pressure upon her lips. She then noticed she pulled away, locked eyes with blessed green nothingness, then they got up and walked away, leaving her to think about what just happened.

Then, as though transported through time, she found herself and the person who had been sobbing before at the old, run-down house, talking and laughing. It was the same as the first time she remembered it, but only, after it was done, she had a flashback of being somewhere else.

This time, she was watching a couple sitting by a motionless Whomping Willow. The girl had orange-ish red hair, and the boy had scruffy black hair. '_It's really strange_,' Elizabeth thought resentfully, '_how I can remember the faces of the people I didn't meet in real life, but the faces of the people in real life are blank_.'

She watched as the redhead and the boy laughed and joked.

"Ha, ha, ha. You think you are so funny, Potter," the redhead said sarcastically. '_Potter…_' Elizabeth wondered, '_That name sounds so familiar, like it was once a part of me. Maybe, I'm related to the Potters or something_.'

"Oh, but I am," said the boy Elizabeth thought to be Potter.

"That's what you like to think," the girl said stubbornly.

Potter lifted an eyebrow before pulling the redhead into what looked like an earth-shattering kiss.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" girl asked in mock-outrage.

"Kissing you, of course," Potter said with no humiliation.

Elizabeth was spinning and found herself in another memory…

She was dueling with a particularly mousy adult, who didn't seem to want to be stunned.

She remembered shouting something along the lines of, "I love you," and then a flash of green light penetrated her body…

She awoke with a shout. She was bathed in sweat, breathing heavily. She didn't even notice she'd fallen asleep. As she wiped her face of the tears she'd unknowingly shed, she heard another screech. She vaguely remembered the staircase to the girls' dormitory would shriek if anyone of the male persuasion tried to go up it.

She got up and went to see what was happening. A voice in the back of her head said quietly, '_This is the third time he's done this…_'

'_Just like those other times_,' Harry mused as he watched Elizabeth walk slowly down the stairs.

"You know, I think this is the third time you've done this," Elizabeth commented. Harry's eyes brightened as he thought she remembered the other two times.

"You've remembered?" Harry asked.

"Just barely. I don't remember exactly the other times you did it, but a voice in the back of my head told me this was your third time," Elizabeth explained honestly.

"Oh, well. I heard you shout. I tried to get to you, but, as you know, the staircase doesn't want anyone of the opposite sex going up it," Harry said. "So, are you all right?" he asked as she walked to his side like it was the most natural thing to do.

"I was attempting to remember a few more things, and memories became dreams. I think I dreamt of my death," she replied in a whisper.

"What happened in it?" Harry inquired.

"This man shot some green light at me. I think I shouted, 'I love you,' to someone, can't quite recall him, though, at least I hope it was a him, before it hit me. Then, right before it did, I woke up all scared," she answered in the same tone.

Harry felt like someone stabbed him right through the heart. '_How can she not remember me?_' Harry thought hopelessly.

"That's what happened, alright," Harry commented as an afterthought.

"Really? You were there?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course, I was there," he said.

"Then answer me this question, please. Why was I dueling with him?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he tried to hex me, so you tried to stop him."

"Did I do anything foolish before I died?"

"No. Not foolish. Never foolish," Harry answered achingly. He longed for the way she used to hold him when he was feeling particularly upset.

Elizabeth, not totally in the dark to the hurt in his voice, just looked at him sympathetically. "I'm not positive about what part you played in my past, Harry Potter, but I'll sure try hard to remember," she promised.

'_Potter_,' she mused, '_Was he the boy in the dream with the redhead?'_ An unpleasant emotion set in before Elizabeth could realize that he wasn't the boy in the dream. _'No, he couldn't be. His eyes are green; the boy in my dream had hazel eyes. What was that emotion? Jealousy? Now that's not reasonable…'_

Then she briefly remembered an American movie whose main character, who lost his memory, also, said something similar to what Elizabeth had just said to Harry to the girl who was claiming to be his girlfriend or something.

She dropped the subject. The man in front her looked like he suffered so much, and she would hate it if she turned out to not be who he thought she was.

Harry managed a ghost of a smile before he went back to bed.

For a couple days, Elizabeth hadn't made any progress; just had disturbing dreams about floating into the sky went she wanted to stay on earth.

She got so frustrated with herself; she just had to know if anyone would help her. '_I feel like that's a big step for me_,' Elizabeth mused, '_I guess I don' t like asking people for help_.'

"Um…hey," Elizabeth called out to Ron hesitantly.

"What do you need?" he asked congenially as he turned to face her.

"Uh…I haven't been having much development with the recollecting deal. Can you help me?" she asked him.

"Hold on. I'll get Harry. He would need to help you, not me," Ron answered.

"Okay. Thanks," Elizabeth replied with gratitude.

He disappeared around the corner. Elizabeth sat down, realizing that if he were to get Harry, it might make her a bit more confused.

"Elizabeth," Harry said when he saw her, "You should read this…it tells you a lot…" He handed her an old, aging, yellow envelope.

Elizabeth took it and looked on its sides. On the front, it bore a seal of a lightening bolt inside a star, with the letters, S.W.M.L. underneath.

She turned it over, and read the words, 'To my love, in the untimely and unfortunate event of my demise.' Elizabeth's brows furrowed in confusion as she took out the contents of the letter.

The paper was wrinkled, and tear-stained. It looked like it was handled quite a few times.

_'Dear Godric (laugh out loud),' _

'_I guess, since you are reading this, either I'm dead, I'm playing a trick on you to make you think I'm dead, or it's so far into our future, you wouldn't need it when I died, so I told you to look at it._

_First off, as though you've heard it many times before, let me say, 'I love you. I'm in love with you. I'd die for your life to be spared.' I probably already have. I do NOT regret it at all! You are so important, not only to me, but to Ron, to Hermione, to Dumbledore, and to the rest of the wizarding world! Since, now you might get really deep bouts of depression, let me give you one last sign of my understanding about, and my love for, you. It's a poem I wrote while thinking about you, titled, 'Life.'_

_Life_

_Life seems so unfair,_

_When you don't know what to do,_

_It seems to be there,_

_Just to upset you._

_But when Life throws you curveballs,_

_All you can do is swing,_

_And when life changes your notes,_

_All you can do is sing._

_Even though Life has messed up your plans,_

_You can always count on me,_

_To be there, to listen,_

_Whatever your problem be._

_So whatever Life has dealt you,_

_Play your hand 'til you succeed,_

_All you have to do,_

_Is play them right, and let Life take the lead._

_I'm here for you when you toss in your towel,_

_Even though I have already thrown in mine,_

_I want you to know, to follow my advice,_

_And to understand that I will love you for all of time._

_So I'm telling you, that there's no use,_

_In trying to control this beast called Life,_

_You'll find you'll never be able to do it,_

_Yet, once you start, you won't be able to give up that unbearable strife._

_Here's my final advice on life,_

_Never listen to anyone who hasn't died to once again live,_

_Because the only advise they have,_

_Is not theirs to give,_

_For they have yet to die to once again live._

_If you read this properly, you will notice the brackets I put around the lines pertaining to baseball. Where it mentions it, I want you to swing, Babes, and make a home run out of this curveball.'_

_So much love,_

Elizabeth 

_'P.S.- S.W.M.L. means Sealed With My Love. If you noticed, I etched the seal. I combined what I thought to be our symbols, a lightening bolt (for you), and a star (for me).'_

Elizabeth's head spun as she read this. It told her inner feelings, she knew, but she struggled to remember exactly what she felt while writing this.

"Since when am I a poet?" Elizabeth thought aloud.

"You probably aren't, you were just feeling particularly emotional," Harry replied.

Suddenly, Elizabeth blacked out, and she found herself in a dream (or memory, she couldn't tell which).

* * *

A/N: I'll try to update more frequently, especially cuz this isn't worth waiting for months. (Terribly sorry, **Tekvah Ariel**!)

**Tekvah Ariel**: You find out about them a little later, but it's not all that interesting, except for the fact that Dumbledore wants to filet them…:-p Thanks for reviewing! Here's another chapter for ya!

**Hazelle:** Hope you got this far! I don't think you made it here just yet, what with 2 other stories to read. Thanks for doing so, and for keeping up with this story! :-p

_Review, please. I need them._


	7. Tears and Memories

Elizabeth might have left the Great Hall with every intention of sleeping, but that was the one thing she didn't do. Random images played like movies in her mind, as she struggled to remember the entire scene.

"When I'm feeling particularly emotional, I tell people I think it's my fault, but the truth is…I just _miss _him…" a voice sobbed in front of her.

Everything else after that was a little hazy, but then she recalled, with acute precision, the pressure upon her lips. She then noticed she pulled away, locked eyes with blessed green nothingness, then they got up and walked away, leaving her to think about what just happened.

Then, as though transported through time, she found herself and the person who had been sobbing before at the old, run-down house, talking and laughing. It was the same as the first time she remembered it, but only, after it was done, she had a flashback of being somewhere else.

This time, she was watching a couple sitting by a motionless Whomping Willow. The girl had orange-ish red hair, and the boy had scruffy black hair. '_It's really strange_,' Elizabeth thought resentfully, '_how I can remember the faces of the people I didn't meet in real life, but the faces of the people in real life are blank_.'

She watched as the redhead and the boy laughed and joked.

"Ha, ha, ha. You think you are so funny, Potter," the redhead said sarcastically. '_Potter…_' Elizabeth wondered, '_That name sounds so familiar, like it was once a part of me. Maybe, I'm related to the Potters or something_.'

"Oh, but I am," said the boy Elizabeth thought to be Potter.

"That's what you like to think," the girl said stubbornly.

Potter lifted an eyebrow before pulling the redhead into what looked like an earth-shattering kiss.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" girl asked in mock-outrage.

"Kissing you, of course," Potter said with no humiliation.

Elizabeth was spinning and found herself in another memory…

She was dueling with a particularly mousy adult, who didn't seem to want to be stunned.

She remembered shouting something along the lines of, "I love you," and then a flash of green light penetrated her body…

She awoke with a shout. She was bathed in sweat, breathing heavily. She didn't even notice she'd fallen asleep. As she wiped her face of the tears she'd unknowingly shed, she heard another screech. She vaguely remembered the staircase to the girls' dormitory would shriek if anyone of the male persuasion tried to go up it.

She got up and went to see what was happening. A voice in the back of her head said quietly, '_This is the third time he's done this…_'

'_Just like those other times_,' Harry mused as he watched Elizabeth walk slowly down the stairs.

"You know, I think this is the third time you've done this," Elizabeth commented. Harry's eyes brightened as he thought she remembered the other two times.

"You've remembered?" Harry asked.

"Just barely. I don't remember exactly the other times you did it, but a voice in the back of my head told me this was your third time," Elizabeth explained honestly.

"Oh, well. I heard you shout. I tried to get to you, but, as you know, the staircase doesn't want anyone of the opposite sex going up it," Harry said. "So, are you all right?" he asked as she walked to his side like it was the most natural thing to do.

"I was attempting to remember a few more things, and memories became dreams. I think I dreamt of my death," she replied in a whisper.

"What happened in it?" Harry inquired.

"This man shot some green light at me. I think I shouted, 'I love you,' to someone, can't quite recall him, though, at least I hope it was a him, before it hit me. Then, right before it did, I woke up all scared," she answered in the same tone.

Harry felt like someone stabbed him right through the heart. '_How can she not remember me?_' Harry thought hopelessly.

"That's what happened, alright," Harry commented as an afterthought.

"Really? You were there?" Elizabeth asked.

"Of course, I was there," he said.

"Then answer me this question, please. Why was I dueling with him?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he tried to hex me, so you tried to stop him."

"Did I do anything foolish before I died?"

"No. Not foolish. Never foolish," Harry answered achingly. He longed for the way she used to hold him when he was feeling particularly upset.

Elizabeth, not totally in the dark to the hurt in his voice, just looked at him sympathetically. "I'm not positive about what part you played in my past, Harry Potter, but I'll sure try hard to remember," she promised.

'_Potter_,' she mused, '_Was he the boy in the dream with the redhead?'_ An unpleasant emotion set in before Elizabeth could realize that he wasn't the boy in the dream. _'No, he couldn't be. His eyes are green; the boy in my dream had hazel eyes. What was that emotion? Jealousy? Now that's not reasonable…'_

Then she briefly remembered an American movie whose main character, who lost his memory, also, said something similar to what Elizabeth had just said to Harry to the girl who was claiming to be his girlfriend or something.

She dropped the subject. The man in front her looked like he suffered so much, and she would hate it if she turned out to not be who he thought she was.

Harry managed a ghost of a smile before he went back to bed.

For a couple days, Elizabeth hadn't made any progress; just had disturbing dreams about floating into the sky went she wanted to stay on earth.

She got so frustrated with herself; she just had to know if anyone would help her. '_I feel like that's a big step for me_,' Elizabeth mused, '_I guess I don' t like asking people for help_.'

"Um…hey," Elizabeth called out to Ron hesitantly.

"What do you need?" he asked congenially as he turned to face her.

"Uh…I haven't been having much development with the recollecting deal. Can you help me?" she asked him.

"Hold on. I'll get Harry. He would need to help you, not me," Ron answered.

"Okay. Thanks," Elizabeth replied with gratitude.

He disappeared around the corner. Elizabeth sat down, realizing that if he were to get Harry, it might make her a bit more confused.

"Elizabeth," Harry said when he saw her, "You should read this…it tells you a lot…" He handed her an old, aging, yellow envelope.

Elizabeth took it and looked on its sides. On the front, it bore a seal of a lightening bolt inside a star, with the letters, S.W.M.L. underneath.

She turned it over, and read the words, 'To my love, in the untimely and unfortunate event of my demise.' Elizabeth's brows furrowed in confusion as she took out the contents of the letter.

The paper was wrinkled, and tear-stained. It looked like it was handled quite a few times.

_'Dear Godric (laugh out loud),' _

'_I guess, since you are reading this, either I'm dead, I'm playing a trick on you to make you think I'm dead, or it's so far into our future, you wouldn't need it when I died, so I told you to look at it._

_First off, as though you've heard it many times before, let me say, 'I love you. I'm in love with you. I'd die for your life to be spared.' I probably already have. I do NOT regret it at all! You are so important, not only to me, but to Ron, to Hermione, to Dumbledore, and to the rest of the wizarding world! Since, now you might get really deep bouts of depression, let me give you one last sign of my understanding about, and my love for, you. It's a poem I wrote while thinking about you, titled, 'Life.'_

_Life_

_Life seems so unfair,_

_When you don't know what to do,_

_It seems to be there,_

_Just to upset you._

_But when Life throws you curveballs,_

_All you can do is swing,_

_And when life changes your notes,_

_All you can do is sing._

_Even though Life has messed up your plans,_

_You can always count on me,_

_To be there, to listen,_

_Whatever your problem be._

_So whatever Life has dealt you,_

_Play your hand 'til you succeed,_

_All you have to do,_

_Is play them right, and let Life take the lead._

_I'm here for you when you toss in your towel,_

_Even though I have already thrown in mine,_

_I want you to know, to follow my advice,_

_And to understand that I will love you for all of time._

_So I'm telling you, that there's no use,_

_In trying to control this beast called Life,_

_You'll find you'll never be able to do it,_

_Yet, once you start, you won't be able to give up that unbearable strife._

_Here's my final advice on life,_

_Never listen to anyone who hasn't died to once again live,_

_Because the only advise they have,_

_Is not theirs to give,_

_For they have yet to die to once again live._

_If you read this properly, you will notice the brackets I put around the lines pertaining to baseball. Where it mentions it, I want you to swing, Babes, and make a home run out of this curveball.'_

_So much love,_

Elizabeth 

_'P.S.- S.W.M.L. means Sealed With My Love. If you noticed, I etched the seal. I combined what I thought to be our symbols, a lightening bolt (for you), and a star (for me).'_

Elizabeth's head spun as she read this. It told her inner feelings, she knew, but she struggled to remember exactly what she felt while writing this.

"Since when am I a poet?" Elizabeth thought aloud.

"You probably aren't, you were just feeling particularly emotional," Harry replied.

Suddenly, Elizabeth blacked out, and she found herself in a dream (or memory, she couldn't tell which).

* * *

A/N: I'll try to update more frequently, especially cuz this isn't worth waiting for months. (Terribly sorry, **Tekvah Ariel**!)

**Tekvah Ariel**: You find out about them a little later, but it's not all that interesting, except for the fact that Dumbledore wants to filet them…:-p Thanks for reviewing! Here's another chapter for ya!

**Hazelle:** Hope you got this far! I don't think you made it here just yet, what with 2 other stories to read. Thanks for doing so, and for keeping up with this story! :-p

_Review, please. I need them._


	8. Bloody Perfect

She was in her dormitory, three years ago. She'd just learned about Dumbledore's mistake with the star chart. She knew she was going to die. She took out her quill, loaded it, and thought about what to write.

'_It should be happy. God knows he's going to need some happiness after this year in over_,' Elizabeth remembered thinking.

She put the quill to the parchment, choosing each word carefully. When she got to the poem, she took out a piece of paper from her pocket, and read her own writing, then put it onto the letter.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how she'd never be able to see his enchanting eyes again after she died. She'd never again be able to run her hands through his hair. Never be able to talk with him, unless she became a ghost. She didn't want that. If she was going to die, she might as well not torture herself and him with being able to talk and look at, but never physically touch. '_No_,' she thought, '_Better to be out of sight and out of mind._'

"Elizabeth," someone called softly. She couldn't tell if it was in her dream or real life. Her eyes were closed.

She felt hands cup her face. '_You can't feel in dreams, can you_?' she thought subconsciously.

"Elizabeth, wake up," the voice whispered in her ear.

"Hmm?" she groaned. She opened her eyes to see Harry, sitting near her, waiting for her to wake.

"Are you all right? One moment, you're standing, talking to me, the next, you've fainted," Harry commented with concern.

Elizabeth didn't know why, but instinct told her to smile and say, "Of course I'm all right. I've lived through worse, here." She listened to instinct.

"If you're sure," Harry reassured, and they both went to bed.

Elizabeth went to sleep that night peaceful, but encountered a horrible revelation. '_I've betrayed him. I left him in this world, alone. And he probably doesn't even know I'm back. I've let him down. My love, I left him. I've betrayed him. I did the only thing I promised not to…_' she thought agonizingly. Her eyes clouded over with the tears that wished to escape. Guilt threatened to grip her as she lay in her warm covers, thinking of the man whom she left on this earth, and she didn't even know his name.

She was depressed as she walked to breakfast the next morning.

"Elizabeth? What's wrong?" Harry asked after the meal.

Elizabeth didn't know how he could tell, and she didn't want to dwell on it. Her eyes watered again as she thought about last night. She shook her head, not knowing what to tell him.

"What happened?" he asked gently. He remembered the comfort she'd provided and it pained him to see that he couldn't return it.

Elizabeth dropped to her knees, not willing to say a word to anybody. '_They should never know this bleak secret that plagues my past_,' Elizabeth thought.

Harry knelt beside her, and held her in his arms. Instead of shying away, as Elizabeth told herself she should have, she accepted the embrace and cried on his shoulder. When she'd sobbed enough to throw herself into dehydration, she looked into Harry's eyes and spoke to him the dark realization that came to her in the black of the night.

"You didn't betray him," Harry reassured her.

She got control of her voice before she spoke again. "Yes, I did. I told him I would be with him forever. But I left him. I went away to the afterlife. He doesn't even know I'm back and I couldn't stand to see him again," Elizabeth contradicted quickly. If she didn't talk fast, the tears would come back and her speaking would become inaudible.

"Why couldn't you stand to see him, again?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Because…" she sobbed. The tears were coming back, making her throat stick… "He meant so much…I could f-f-feel it. Now that I've been gone… He probably has a new life and he would be ang-g-gry that I went away… I didn't m-m-mean t-t-to…"

"Shh," Harry quietly directed. "He's not angry. I'm positive he understands. You had no choice but to die. You didn't choose to. You didn't say, 'Kill me,' to anyone," he said.

"How would you know if the man I betrayed understands anything?" Elizabeth asked. The crying stopped, and she looked at him with curiosity.

"Because I…" Harry started. Just then, an owl swooped into the common room.

It held a letter addressed to Harry.

'_Dear Harry,  
I'm sorry to tell you the news, but if you don't listen to this, then your second chance will be revoked. The elders of the afterlife admit their wrongs and at this very moment are trying to make things right with Elizabeth's memory. You must not tell her what part you play in her past. She must figure that out for herself. I know it must be very hard to see her, to talk with her, and have her not even know what her feelings for you were before she died. She will realize it, soon. I must emphasize, you can not tell her about the both of you. The elders are putting her through one more test before she fully regains her memory. She must feel true love. And you can not tell her to recall what you had before. It must be new, something she doesn't remember ever feeling.  
Apart from that, Elizabeth is going to be unreasonably emotional for the next few weeks. She will be quick to tears or anger if that's what the situation calls for. She didn't mentally age while she was going through the afterlife, so, technically, she is still seventeen, even though her body aged to twenty. Please, be gentle and patient with her, she lived through so much, that I'm surprised she can even still talk, from the trauma.  
She'll get her memory back soon, don't worry.  
From,  
Professor Albus Dumbledore_ '

"Just bloody perfect," Harry muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Elizabeth asked.  
"Nothing…"

"Harry! Elizabeth!" Ron called as he entered the room.

"What is it?" Harry asked shortly. He was rather annoyed with Dumbledore at the moment.

"I apologize, but I've got to go home. Hermione's just told me. She's pregnant," Ron announced happily.

Harry's annoyance disappeared as he offered his best wishes and shook Ron's hand.

"Hermione?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Don't you remember her?" Ron responded. "Oh, well. You'll see her soon enough. We're having the Weasley Christmas party this year. You both are invited of course. You two can either book a room, together, now, with one bed, or two, doesn't matter. Or you could wait until November or something…"

"Why would we book a room together?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Oy! You don't even remember that? Well, I'll tell you, Harry…"

"Ron," Harry interrupted, making a gesture with his finger across his throat, telling him to quit.

"What?" Ron pondered. Harry stuffed the letter from Dumbledore in his hand and sulked out of the room.

"Just bloody perfect," Ron repeated after he read it.

* * *

A/N: What's this? What's this? I can't believe my eyes! What's this? What's this? She must be in disguise! What's this? What's this? I can't believe it! She's posting another chapter! Does that mean someone dies? What's this?

:) Yes, another chapter is here, my friends, as I've found a decent way of transferring stories that is much better than retyping the entire thing! ( I LOVE FLOPPY DISKS! ;) )

**Moonjava:** I'm thrilled you like it. I hope you stick with this story. Did you read the other two? THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! :)


	9. Rehashing Old Wounds

"What is it?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Our next mission," Ron lied quickly, "It's a ruddy suicide attempt, it is."

"What've you got to do? Is Harry involved?" Elizabeth asked without thinking. '_STOP_!' she ordered herself, '_You must not get attached to Harry. What happens if you do, then you find the one you betrayed? Then all hell's gonna break loose. You don't want that. Mental note to self: Stay away from Harry Potter_.'

"Can't tell you that. Top secret, you know. Of course, Harry's involved. He and I are partners for awhile," Ron replied.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Elizabeth said. She had been telling the truth anyway, just not how Ron thought it. He probably thought it slipped her mind that he was working with Harry.

Ron left Elizabeth by herself, thinking about everything. She was consumed with questions and answers to only about two of her inquiries. She fell asleep, still contemplating.

When she woke up the next morning, still on the common room couch, it seemed her brain never slept. The questions were still zooming around her mind as if they would never gave it a rest.

Elizabeth withdrew from anyone who tried to talk to her within the next few days. Harry was starting to get really worried.

"Professor, she's avoiding me," Harry told Dumbledore, one day, in his office.

"Preposterous. She took to you immediately, even if she didn't remember you," Dumbledore reassured.

"But, sir, I gave her the note she wrote me…before she died. I was about to tell her that she had written it to me, but then your owl showed up telling me not to tell her about our feelings from before. Now, she thinks she's betrayed the man she loves and she thinks she can't get involved with me. She doesn't know I'm the man she left in the first place," Harry explained.

"What she needs is a good female friend. Can you contact Miss Ginny Weasley and see if she can visit us for the next month that Hogwarts has to be student-free?" Dumbledore requested. Harry nodded and exited the room.

He hadn't thoroughly shown it, but Professor Dumbledore was worried at Elizabeth's behavior. Her frequent degradation of self was obvious to everyone but her, and he had thought it would not come into play until later. Now, he would have to get to his trick earlier and he did not like that at all…

Elizabeth had retreated away from everyone and was now sitting in the astronomy tower, alone. Alone was how she preferred it, now. Nobody there to confuse her or make her uncomfortable.

She stared up at the stars, thinking. They were once so important to her, just like someone she knew, but now they meant nothing. They were now just balls of plasma, like the someone she knew was just a shadow, in the back of her mind, teasing her with one glimpse, then making her forget again.

She wished she could remember everything. Elizabeth dreamt of her funeral, but she didn't know any of the people who were there. A bit of recognition did nothing to jog her memory. A sea of endless, blank faces had haunted that dream. Tears of frustration wanted to fall, as Elizabeth felt hopeless, the very emotion she hated. She could do nothing, and it was hell.

"Is someone up here?" an unknown voice asked.

Elizabeth tensed and slid against the wall, hidden in shadows. She had been wrapped up in her own thoughts she couldn't tell if the voice belonged to woman or man.

"Hello," the voice repeated as the owner of the voice entered the tower. "Elizabeth, I know you're in here. It's me, Ginny."

Elizabeth couldn't recall who Ginny was, but she knew it was a feminine name, therefore, Elizabeth concluded Ginny was female, and she wouldn't confuse her.

"Yeah, I know I'm in here, too," Elizabeth replied as she stepped into the light of the moon. She saw a stunning redhead with brown eyes, looking at her compassionately.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she approached Elizabeth.

"I guess. I mean, I've been confused as hell for the last four days…"

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I don't remember a damn thing, I found a note telling me about the man I betrayed, and I think I might be falling in love with another guy, even though the one I used to love is probably still out there, waiting for me," Elizabeth explained. "Do I know you?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes, you do. I'm Ginny. I heard of your memory loss. I'm pretty sure I can help. In the ways I can, of course. Did you know there are rules on what people around here can and can not tell you," Ginny commented. They both sat down on the stone benches.

"Really?" Elizabeth responded, incredulous. "That would explain nobody telling me anything."

"Yeah, but they could tell you some things. But, sadly, anything they tell you might remind you of what you had before you died," Ginny said.

"And they don't want that?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Well…yes. They do. But you have to figure it out for yourself. So, who's the lucky bloke you think you're falling in love with?" Ginny inquired with a total change of subject.

"Oh, I'm not really sure about this…I mean, I get the strangest feeling you'll be upset…" Elizabeth muttered.

"Why would I be upset?" Ginny asked.

"Because. I got a flash of a memory. A redhead, who looked like you, was yelling at me for something I was about to say but the redhead took it the wrong way and when she found out the right way, she was even madder," Elizabeth informed. "I don't know the details of that dialogue. I only know the redhead was angry."

"Oh…Er…" Ginny sighed meaningfully. She understood, now. Ginny had yelled at Elizabeth was she was in her fifth year, and she thought Elizabeth was one of those yank women with no self-respect. Boy, was she wrong, but she'd been just as mad once she found out Elizabeth's real intentions, no matter how sweet they were or how clear they'd make everything.

"You remember, don't you?" Elizabeth asked accusingly.

"Of course, I do. It was the year right before you found true love," Ginny replied. '_Careful…_' a little voice in the back of her head warned, '_You don't want her guessing, then being taken away from their second chance just because you let something slip_.'

"Who was he?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Can't tell you that," Ginny refused.

"I see. So, am I just supposed to be in this limbo/hell until I can remember the answers? Or am I doomed to never know?" Elizabeth asked.

"No. This is your test. I'm not sure what it is. But back to who you think you love. I know…it's Harry, isn't it?" Ginny changed the subject, again. She giggled like she was a teenager.

"Maybe," Elizabeth responded with a small smile.

"Well, you're both over the wizarding-age law. You could do what you want," Ginny prompted. Ginny mentally chided herself for playing cupid for the man she herself loved and the woman who was destined to be with him.

"Not really," Elizabeth contradicted. "What about the dude I left here once I died?"

"Elizabeth, I should have told you before we got into who you thought you were falling in love with. The man you left before you died, he was killed two years ago." '_It was lame, it was a lie, and it was totally necessary_,' Ginny kept telling herself. She knew she'd lie about this before she went to find Elizabeth. She was instructed to lie, but that didn't quite clear her conscience.

"Oh, no…" Elizabeth gasped. She shook her head, racking her brains to try to remember the handsome face she thought she would never see again.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said as she went by Elizabeth and hugged her. Elizabeth cried on her shoulder and told Ginny everything. Ginny stayed and comforted her.

"Do you think you could manage to move on before Halloween?" Ginny requested.

"Maybe…What's Halloween?" Elizabeth asked. At Ginny's horrified expression, Elizabeth amended the statement to"What's going on on Halloween?"

"One of my brothers is throwing the family party of the century, that's what," Ginny announced. "They got this huge mansion, and the whole family is going to be there, plus a whole bunch of friends, including you. It's going to have music you used to like, all the food you could think of, and a whole bunch of pranks because we even invited some old enemies! They think we're extending the olive branch. Ha!" Ginny explained. Elizabeth couldn't help but feed of her excitement. It was contagious. She grinned her widest when she heard another voice enter the tower.

Elizabeth was not wrapped in her thoughts this time, and she identified this voice as Harry's.

"Who's in here?" he asked.

Elizabeth drew her legs up on the bench, and wrapped her arms around her knees as she felt them weaken. "Me and Ginny," she answered shortly. "Why?"

"Can't I wander the castle, hoping to glimpse a couple of nymphs talking in a high tower?" Harry asked innocently as he sat down.

"Oh, Harry, hi. I was just telling Elizabeth about how the man she left when she died had been killed a year ago," Ginny explained. She winced inwardly as she garbled her lie. She hoped to the gods Elizabeth hadn't noticed.

But Elizabeth looked practically consumed with the thought of the long crack along the wall.

Harry looked confused. He almost asked her, _'Do I look like I've been dead a year_?' but thought better of it. He figured it was for the best, and decided to play along.

"That's horrible, Gin. Why'd you have to talk about it, again? I'm sure it's painful hearing it once, but twice? Talk about something happier," Harry requested.

"Fine, I will. I was telling Elizabeth, too, about the Halloween party Fred and George are throwing. It's going to be on the seventeenth, you know, to celebrate a certain something besides Halloween," Ginny hinted while winking at Elizabeth.

"What's on the seventeenth?" Elizabeth questioned. She came out of her daze long enough for her to answer.

"You'll see when it get's here," Harry replied before Ginny could tell her.

"Oh, alright," Elizabeth sighed. She was crouched, but now she unfurled, legs on the floor, hands on her lap, back straight as a rail, which was more comfortable for her, anyway.

"Why do you sit like that?" Ginny inquired.

Elizabeth shrugged as Harry remembered the day in the Room of Requirement when she needed to tutor him on the combining curse. He'd remembered staring at her, as though evaluating her…no, more like admiring her.

Her face wasn't as round as it used to be. It was gaunt, now. Shadows played around the bottoms of her eyes like Lupin used to have when the full moon was approaching. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her lips were dried and cracked. It had amused him to watch her bite on her bottom lip when she was nervous, but now it worried him. She was entirely too skinny for her build, as though she'd been without food for the three years she'd been dead.

She had a sad look about her that said quite clearly, _'I've been through hell. But, now that I'm out, I'm lost_.'

'_Yet_,' Harry mused, '_She still sits with her back like a steel rod, stiff and erect_.'

She was looking at the stars, again. She couldn't get enough of them. She hated uneasy silences with a passion, but she didn't want to do anything about it, so she looked up at the moonlit sky, once more.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and largely yawned like a little five year old. "I'm going back to my bed," she announced as she got up.

"I'll go with you," Harry offered.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm still used to being cut off from human companionship. I'm not sure if I'm used to it enough to walk to my bed without living through roaring silence," Elizabeth declined gently. "And I don't know about you, but roaring silence gets on my nerves. It's one of those things you can't quite do anything about."

She got up and left, leaving Harry kind of stuck in his own thoughts. After awhile, Ginny and Harry talked about what they were going to do with Harry's second chance, and the girl whose memory liked to play tricks on them all.

Ginny decided that she should move on. She should have moved on when she told everyone she did, back in her fourth year. She'd hid her real feelings by going out with numerous boys. She sighed as she pictured the future for Harry and Elizabeth. A beautiful wedding, wonderful kids, and a large group of extended family that was really a bunch of very close friends, as both Harry and Elizabeth were only children.

As Elizabeth slept that night, she remembered a dream she had about five years ago, but this time, it had a little more detail. She was wearing white robes, and she was flying high above Hogwarts.

Everything was dark. It was like nothing was created, yet. Then Elizabeth used wandless magic as she cast, "_Lumos Salem_." From her fingers, stars escaped, making little dots in the sky. The moon formed and all was good. Elizabeth could see over everything. She noticed her robes were stained, like she had dirt thrown at her. Just then, a storm came, sucking all happiness from Elizabeth, making her light falter. Right before she thought she was going to perish, a crimson bird flew into view.

A voice followed the bird, whispering in her ears "You belong with us," over and over. A golden glow enveloped her as she gathered her strength for an attack.

'_Not your fight…_' another voice said. '_Not you…Don't do anything…Not your responsibility…_'

"I will destroy all dark magic!" Elizabeth shouted.

And lightening hit the crimson bird Elizabeth identified as a phoenix. The phoenix fell and everything turned quiet. She looked down as the phoenix changed into a dog. Now it faded from memory into dream, which Elizabeth couldn't tell. The dog began changing again. Now it was human. Elizabeth looked upon the person's body and saw a face, cold, still, dead…her own face!


	10. Unbalanced Pedestals

She woke up screaming, again. She took a deep breath, ran both hands through her hair and held on to the ends for dear life. Her breathing was hard and her heart was beating painfully fast. Panic shot through her being. Fear gripped her, as it never had before. Her eyes darted about the room, as though expecting to see a murderer with a hockey mask, looking at her with his machete raised high, ready to stab her through the heart. Or worse, to see Voldemort, glaring, wand poised, and a blast of green light penetrating her body. '_Or maybe one of the things I encountered in hell_,' Elizabeth thought jumpily. She felt like she was waiting for the old fire demon to attack her again.

She shook her head, trying to block images of green lights, balrogs, and hockey masks out of her head. As she tried to slow her breathing, she rocked back and forth on her bed.

She stood up, about ten minutes later, stretched and went to go walk around, seeing how closing her eyes only made her see the horrors she never wanted to live through again.

"I am beginning to think you are somewhat of an insomniac, Ms. Pentillo," Professor Dumbledore said as he walked around the corner.

Elizabeth bumped right into him. "Terribly sorry, sir," she mumbled.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Why is it you think I'm an insomniac, Professor?" she asked him.

"Because, when you were at Hogwarts, I could recall many a night you were up late, either reading, thinking, doing homework, walking around, getting a glass of water, or retrieving a letter you misplaced in the Shrieking Shack with Mr. Potter. You name it, you did it at three in the morning," Dumbledore informed amusedly with a twinkle in his eyes at the memory of it.

"I apologize," Elizabeth muttered, looking at her feet.

"Don't be sorry. If it wasn't for your restlessness, Mr. Potter would be dead and the world would be destroyed," Dumbledore explained.

"Oh, please. I did not save the world," Elizabeth said, her head shooting up to get a good look at the old man before her.

"Really? If I remember correctly, you died the last year you were here. You were seventeen. You died because you were killed, yes. But, afterwards, everyone realized you had to die," Dumbledore informed.

"I had to die?" Elizabeth repeated.

"Yes. You were one of the Falling Stars. In order to use your power as a Falling Star, you either had to die, or have your innocence broken. As Mr. Potter found that out a little too late, he couldn't do the honors..."

"What!" Elizabeth blurted out in humiliation. '_This old man is talking about me losing my virginity…and to Harry, too! Lord, help us all_!' she thought, '_But I'd be surprised if I still had it…who knows what creepy evil demons down in hell like to ravage pure little seventeen year old virgins…_' A cold chill of recognition made her hair stand on end and her legs draw together as though told by instinct.

"Oh, dear. It seems I've said too much. Well, do what you need to do, Elizabeth, then, please, try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is July 31. It is a very special day and we do not want you missing out on it," Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," Elizabeth sighed. She turned around and went back to her bed. She didn't even want to think about the virginity thing.

'_How odd_,' Elizabeth mused, '_it is that, now, I can close my eyes without worrying about Jason or balrogs, or Voldemort…How do I remember their names?_' was the last thing Elizabeth recalled thinking about before she drifted into (for her, a very rare) dreamless sleep.

The next day was a big party. It seemed the lot of the wizarding world was celebrating. Elizabeth found out exactly why when she got the Daily Prophet delivered to her. There was a big picture of Harry on the front page.

_'Happy Birthday to The-Boy-Who-Lived!'_

"I wonder when they'll notice I'm not a boy, anymore," Harry thought aloud, distracting Elizabeth from her trance.

"They were talking about you?" she asked. '_Well_,' a voice in her head said as she mentally slapped herself, _'Obviously! That is him in the picture, one-of-little-intelligence._'

"Oh, yes. Undoubtedly. An evil wizard tried to kill me when I was one, and I survived, when no one else had," Harry explained.

"Why would anyone try to kill you?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I-I…ah…that is to say…er," Harry stuttered.

_---Meanwhile, in Dumbledore's office---_

"We've hid her long enough, Albus," Minerva McGonagall said to Professor Dumbledore.

"Minerva, she can't leave, now. Definitely not. Remember I told you about how bad the elders muddled this plan?" Dumbledore retorted.

"But it can't have been as bad as the elders described. They described a type of…well, like what muggle Christians call hell..."

"Exactly. That was it, exactly. Only it's not a place to send particularly evil people," Dumbledore explained.

McGonagall's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "What is it, then?"

"It is a type of obstacle course. The only point is to survive. If you really want to go back, if you really have the will power, the courage, the stamina, you can make it back. But if you want to move on, you let the first peril destroy the temporary body given to you by the elders," Dumbledore said.

"What does this have to do with Elizabeth?" McGonagall questioned.  
"She went through more than she should have. I helped her along for about ten minutes, but I was rejected out of her mind by some magic the elders instilled. It wore off after while, but when I found her, the damage had already been done. Not only were her fears already imprinted on this hell, some of mine were, as well. Those horrors were to follow her, tormenting, torturing, until she knew she could take no more, with no sign of escape," the old man sighed.

"Why would you want to help her?"

"The fate of the world still sits on an unbalanced pedestal, Minerva."

"You are getting better and better at confusing me."

"Then let me spell it out. Harry has the power to destroy Voldemort."

"Yes, yes, I already know that, Albus. Tell me something I don't know."

"Here's something you don't know. If Harry isn't completely satisfied with what he did, Voldemort could still come back."

Professor McGonagall gasped as she put her hand to her mouth. "How do we know if Potter is satisfied or not?"

"I always knew I had more than one reason to care for the boy's happiness. We target his problems that are causing him distress."

"What do you mean? Target?"

"We fix them."

"Once again, what does Elizabeth Pentillo have to do with this?"

"Everything."

* * *

A/N: It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...Funness returning? Muahahahaha!

**Tikvah Ariel**: Yes, here I am! Thank you so much for reviewing, and I hope you haven't given up on me...-sweat drop-


	11. Know Thy Self

"So, I take it, that's one of the things you're not supposed to tell me?" Elizabeth guessed.

"Sorry," Harry apologized.

"Don't be. I'll figure it out, later. Well, what was I really good at, here?" Elizabeth inquired.

"You were an animagus," Harry informed.

"Really? What? Is that where I turn into an animal or something?" she asked laughingly.

"Er…" Harry paused, "It is."

"No kidding? Awesome. Do you know how I did it?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly looking really interested.

"I guess you concentrated on changing…I'm not sure. You never really told me the secrets of it…"

"I'll try it, now, then," Elizabeth interrupted. She was excited. She didn't know she could change into an animal.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on animal feelings, being an animal, and thinking like one…

"Whoa…" Harry said. She still looked the same, after all these years. She was still the Buto he'd talked to in Parseltongue at the end of his sixth year to save the school…

Elizabeth cocked her head sideways as she contemplated Harry's stare. She thanked God her leathery skin didn't allow blushing. Harry was looking at her so intensely, if she'd been human, she would have fainted.

"Can you understand me?" Harry asked in Parseltongue suddenly.

"Yeah…" Elizabeth answered in the same language. She changed back into a human. "That was awesome," she commented.

"You were good at flying, too," Harry added.

"Flying? As in…with wings?" Elizabeth inquired. Her eyes lit up.

"Um…" Harry didn't know how, but she was making him really uncomfortable, "With broomsticks."

"Broomsticks? Interesting. I'll have to try it out, again, some time," Elizabeth murmured. She could feel Harry's uneasiness, and thought it had something do with her, so she got up to walk around.

'_Damn it, Harry_,' he thought to himself, watching Elizabeth's retreating steps, '_You know she can feel what you feel, and now you've scared her off_.'

Elizabeth, thinking she was the dumbest woman to walk the planet, was berating herself because she strolled right out of a conversation. In fact, ever since she found out that the man she'd left when she died was dead himself, she figured, '_Why not get to know Harry? He probably likes me…I just don't know, anymore_.'

There was a feast going on that night. It was a casual affair, but with a lot of people. Elizabeth got reintroduced to the Weasleys. They didn't bring their families along, though.

Everyone at the party was told about what they could and couldn't tell Elizabeth. They were careful to skirt around the reason why Elizabeth was so well-loved by a family she barely ever met before.

"Oh, my goodness, Elizabeth!" called out Molly Weasley.

"Uh…hi," Elizabeth muttered. She didn't know if the kindly woman in front of her knew she forgot all about her and her family (she could tell they were all family because they had the same color hair.).

"I know you don't remember me, dear, but I certainly remember you! Oh, how wonderful it will be to have you back! You were always so polite and nice to talk with. You always seemed to brighten the mood of those around you," she threw a knowing look in Harry's direction. He wondered how she could have possibly known about that. "I'm just so thrilled you're back," Mrs. Weasley gushed.

"Um…thanks…I guess," Elizabeth murmured. She felt sort of guilty, like she wasn't all she was before she died.

She didn't like attention, that much she knew about herself. She sneaked away from the group of people forming around Harry to take a breather.

Ginny came over, told her why Ron and Hermione weren't there, then walked off, again.

"Why such a wallflower, these days?" a man with flaming red hair asked. One second later, he was joined by another man, looking exactly like him.

Elizabeth just shrugged. She knew she saw these two before, but she couldn't quite picture where.

"We heard about what happened. I'm Fred, he's George," one of the twins introduced.

"Hi, George," Elizabeth replied, shaking hands with the man who said he was Fred. She got a strange feeling he switched their names purposely.

"Oh, she's good," George whispered to his brother. He really was George, not Fred.

"I thought you couldn't remember anything," Fred asked.

"I can't. I just figured you guys were trying to pull a fast one. I sort of thought you guys like to play pranks," Elizabeth commented offhandedly.

"Like to play pranks?" George asked, incredulous. "Try, pranks are our living."

"Yeah, we own the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Fred informed.

"The what?" Elizabeth inquired.

The twins' eyes widened as they thought she would have at least remembered that. But, then again, it had been awhile. They started to explain it to her, and then an old friend of Harry's pulled her away from the two.

She had black hair and dark eyes. She looked Asian.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" she asked Elizabeth.

"I was invited," she replied.

"Well. I don't know who you think you're fooling, because I know you are not Elizabeth Pentillo who went to school with Harry, and his friends."

"I'm not?" Elizabeth questioned, oblivious to what the woman was trying to do.

"You are not Elizabeth Pentillo. She wasn't as…nice as people say she was. You seem entirely too timid and meek…"

"Excuse me. I don't even know you. Professor Dumbledore said I was Elizabeth Pentillo, and I even remember most of the things people are asking me. I am _not_ timid," Elizabeth interrupted with vehemence. She felt like she was getting back into a familiar groove. A belief, stronger than what she thought was possible, shot up in her mind. 'Know thy self,' was imprinted in her mind.

"Now, you're not. Not when your territory is challenged…"

"You know what? I don't give a damn about what you think, okay? I don't know you, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to, after that wild accusation," Elizabeth commented smartly.

"I am Cho Chang. I am a friend of Harry's when he was in school. I am only worried about his well-being, and you are bad for it…"

"I don't give a damn, didn't I already tell you?" she cut off. Cho, whoever she was, was really beginning to bother Elizabeth. She got a sneaking feeling that she was partly lying about something.

"Yes, but it's not like I care what you think, either. I just want to warn you, I'm watching you. I know you are not Elizabeth Pentillo. She and I were friends. You aren't like her, at all," Cho remarked before she walked away.

'_Shit_,' Elizabeth thought. She was having second thoughts about who she was, again. That American movie, The Majestic©, she remembered it, now. The main character was so wrapped up in the lives of the people from town; he was so sure he was a part of them. He came to find out that he was just some poor guy from L.A. running from the government.

The plot of that movie kept burrowing into the back of her brain. '_What if you're like Luke? Only, he wasn't really Luke, probably just like you aren't really Elizabeth_,' she considered.

She shook her head to remove those thoughts from her head. She knew that the fake Luke in the story had given the people something to hope for, even if he wasn't the real thing. Elizabeth noticed how happy Mrs. Weasley was when she'd seen her. '_Maybe that's what Hogwarts needs, too_,' she concluded, and decided to have a good time.

Ron didn't attend the party, neither did Hermione. They were at home, taking care of some very important things before the baby got there.

She and Harry hung around each other a lot, now. Near the end of the party, Elizabeth told Harry that she was really starting to like him as a friend. There would be no more uneasy silences between them, again.


	12. Old Codger

Harry wondered what happened to him, over the span of two days after his birthday. He was becoming more social. '_Was it because of Elizabeth_?' he thought to himself, '_Maybe…maybe_.'

He continued musing until he saw a great eagle owl enter the room. It landed in front of him and stuck out his leg.

Harry took off the letter, and in a swoop of large wings, the eagle owl was gone.

'_Dear Harry Potter_,' it read.

'_I realize that you and I were not on the best of terms, ever, but I'm asking you to do this one thing. Just one. I want you to come by and pick up my father. Obviously, if I just turn him in to the authorities, they'll think I just chickened out of the Death Eater scheme and wanted to turn my own father in as a back-up for my so-called story. The fact is the authorities don't like me. Much less than you, or even Weasley, does. I'm not asking you to forget all the mean things I've done to you in the past. I'm just asking you to pick up my father so I don't have to take the blame for something I didn't do. We're at Malfoy Manor._

_From,  
__Draco Malfoy'_

'_So, the tables have turned, Mr. Malfoy_,' was the first thing that popped into Harry's head. But it just didn't seem right. Draco had done nothing since Hogwarts. He worked as a shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley, but it was the only shop that didn't sell things to hurt others.

Harry thought he'd better check it out if Draco really does have the elusive Lucius Malfoy at his command. He got out his emergency Floo powder and shouted, "Malfoy Manor!" as he walked into the flames.

He was suddenly in the dreariest house anyone could ever live in, if, in fact, one could live in such desolate conditions. He saw a house-elf, right before it squealed, ran out of the room and shut the door.

"What do you want, Lamor? What do you mean? Man in the fire place?" Harry heard a masculine voice demand from outside the door. The door opened and Harry saw blonde hair and stone cold gray eyes.

"Oh, it's you, isn't it? Well, thanks for the warning," he drawled.

"I'm doing you a favor, Malfoy. Wouldn't want to ruin it and end up in Azkaban with dear old Daddy, now, would you?" Harry sneered.

Surprisingly, Draco's countenance changed to, not one of worry, but one of understanding. The smirk disappeared. He nodded and motioned for Harry to come out of the parlor to see his father.

Draco led Harry down into the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Harry looked at the decaying prison with disgust. Luckily, he saw only one person being held hostage in this putrefaction of cells.

He looked about fifty or sixty, his blonde hair now completely white. His eyes, closed with fatigue, Harry guessed, would have been the same gray as his son's. He looked so old and fragile.

"Malfoy, what have you done?" Harry asked as he gazed at the pathetic excuse for an aging man.

"Don't start thinking he's just a harmless old codger, now, Potter. He's still the cold, conniving bastard he was when he tried to curse you in your second year. Don't let him fool you. He's only sleeping now because he gave up his bet," Draco said at Harry's question.

"Bet?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, Potter, my father lost his bet to me. He brought it up. I just agreed. He said that if he would stay awake for five days, I'd have to become a Death Eater. No doubt, that before Voldemort had been destroyed, my father could stay up for six, maybe seven, days at a time, worrying. If he slept before then, he wouldn't like what he finds when he wakes up. That was two days ago," he explained. There was no malevolent pleasure in his eyes, only blank nothingness. He sighed and looked at Harry.

"You'll have to wait until he wakes up to stun him and take him in…"

"What do you mean, stun him? Why would I need to stun a decrepit old man to bring him to the ministry of magic's office?" Harry asked.

"Because that decrepit old man still holds a wand and a brain and mouth to use it. He might not look like much, but he can still cast a competent killing curse and a malicious Cruciatus curse," Draco warned.

"Why are you warning me?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Listen, Potter, I know you and I will never be friends. We just don't get along, you and I. But that doesn't mean anyone who doesn't get along with the famous Harry Potter is on the bad side. I don't want to see more people hurt by this cur. He doesn't deserve to walk the streets. I'm on the good side, Potter, and whether or not you wish to believe it, well…That's up to you," Draco stated. He stopped talking when he heard his father groan.

"Malfoy, wake up," Draco commanded sharply.

The old man's eyes shot open immediately. He glared from Draco to Harry, and he became livid.

"You cheating son-of-a-"

"As much liking you take to insulting me, Mr. Potter is not here to listen to it. Do you know why he's here, Lucius?" Draco asked without any sign of respect.

"He's here because you put a sleeping draft in my food, you little bastard…I'm going to get you! The Dark Lord can still come back! His destroyer's discontented…He'll never really be happy and that will be your side's flaw! And, you, boy, you will get your comeuppance! You are an ungrateful little…"

"_Stupefy_," Harry cursed. He saw now why the old man had to be stunned. He wouldn't stop rambling.

"A sharp tongue can slice its own throat, Malfoy. Remember that while you're rotting in Azkaban behind the dragons, and they're being guarded by a Weasley. Imagine that, the great Lucius Malfoy, stuck in a prison, guarded by a wizard regarded as much a nothing as his father, and you can't get out…"

"Malfoy," Harry warned. He could tell he liked harassing his father, but he really needed to shut up about Ron.

"Sorry, Potter. I can get as carried away as he can when I'm telling him the truth. But, yes. I suppose you should take him in, now," Draco muttered.

"I believe I should," Harry replied as he opened the cell and cursed, "_Mobilicorpus_."

"Oh, and Harry," Draco said to Harry's retreating back. He turned around and waited for what Draco had to say.

"Thank you," Draco said.

Harry nodded, and preceded to take Lucius to the Ministry of Magic's office.

'_What is with Malfoy_?' Harry considered as he directed the still stunned Lucius around the office. He found the temporary jail and its guard.

"Ah, Seamus, my friend. How've you been?" Harry asked the man behind the desk.

He was Seamus Finnegan. "The same as always, Harry. Who's this?" he replied.

"This, Mr. Finnegan, is Lucius Malfoy. I found him stalking an old fr—er—acquaintance. I caught him easily enough. I think he forgot his Disillusionment Charm, this time," Harry commented offhand. '_Did I almost call Draco a friend_?' Harry thought, '_And did I just call him Draco? Yes, I did, and he called me Harry…odd, really odd…_'

He turned Lucius in, and he was to be at Azkaban as soon as possible.

'_What had Lucius meant when he said Voldemort's destroyer's discontented? I know I'm his destroyer, but how am I discontented? That makes no sense. Who was he talking about when he said someone will never really be happy? Me or Voldemort? Lucius Malfoy might be confusing…but his son's mind-boggling. I'll have to ask Elizabeth. She might know something as off-the-wall as this…_'

But Harry completely forgot to ask Elizabeth anything.


	13. Hallowed

He had an owl waiting for him, this time from Ron.

_'Hi, Harry,_

_I know you, James, and Elizabeth can't stay at Hogwarts for the whole year, and I wondered if you three would want to spend some time at our house. I know Elizabeth has nowhere to go, and do you really want to leave her at Hogwarts without you? Don't worry, it's a great old house Hermione and I live in. It reminds me of the Burrow, only, not as crowded (yet…)._

_Something horrible happened while I was gone. I've just found out. Percy, you remember him, don't you? Well, Lucius Malfoy, right before he was caught by a masked stranger, was torturing him, saying that he would always have more power than a Weasley (Percy had a promotion to Minister of Magic). He killed him, and the masked stranger stunned him after. Seems he was in London when it happened._

_So, Percy's dead and he never apologized to his family for betraying them. Mum's in hysterics. She won't believe he's dead._

_Well, I hope you three will come here as soon as you can. You can travel by Floo Powder. It's called Weasley Tower._

_Hope to see you then,_

_Ron'_

So Harry took the letter down to dinner with him.

"What's that?" James asked, once he saw that Harry had something in his hand.

"Ron wants us to spend a time at his home with him and Hermione. Elizabeth, do you have a place to stay?" he asked her.

"I don't have a clue," she responded.

"You wouldn't have a place, now, would you, Elizabeth? I think you arrived in Diagon Alley and then came here. Am I correct?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Then, would you like to go to Ron's house? He says he and Hermione would love some company. I guess a big house get's kind of lonely when there's only two people in it. James, you were invited, too. I guess it really is a big house. They call it Weasley Tower," Harry informed.

"I'd love to go," Elizabeth replied.

"I think I'd like to go, also," James resolved.

"Great. I'll be staying, as well. I'll write Ron, and he'll tell us when we can leave," Harry stated.

After dinner, he sent the note, and spent two days waiting for it.

When he got the response, Ron told him they could leave whenever they felt like it. Harry felt like leaving, now. It was late, and it was raining. Rain always seemed to depress Harry at Hogwarts.

He got Elizabeth and James and they used the Floo Powder, Harry, first, then James, Elizabeth last.

"Elizabeth!" Hermione cried when she saw her walk out of the fireplace. Elizabeth was getting quite used to people's shouts of joy when they saw her. "I can't believe it's really you!"

"Yeah…I can't believe it, either," Elizabeth responded with hidden meaning.

Hermione embraced her and told her about the friendship they had back at Hogwarts.

Hermione led Elizabeth to her room. It was right across from Harry's.

"We tried to fashion the room on how the person staying in it would like. We didn't really know what to do with James' room, so we'll have him tell us. I really hope you like the room. If you need anything, just tell me," she said as she stopped in front of the door.

"Please," Elizabeth excused, "If I were to ask anything of you, it would be, 'What do you need?' I wouldn't mind helping out, especially since you might need it," she added, looking at Hermione's overgrown stomach.

"You don't need to help. We've got house-elves and they are very happy to do anything we ask," Hermione commented before she opened the door. For some strange reason, Elizabeth considered that to be very weird.

The ceiling was like the one in the Great Hall, bewitched to match the sky. Everything was black, blue and purple. The walls were navy, and the furniture was black. The bed was black and purple, with navy curtains. Silver stars dotted the walls, and, Hermione assured her, the ceiling would have the stars at night.

By the bed was a moving picture in a silver and gold frame. There were four teenagers in that picture. They were all sixteen. It was taken right after Hermione got back. Everyone was arm in arm.

"They look so happy," Elizabeth muttered. She recognized no one (everyone changed quite a bit since that picture…not much, but enough to confuse Elizabeth).

"Don't you know who they are?" Hermione asked.

Elizabeth just shook her head. She saw herself (she didn't know who she was, though) smiling and waving. Harry was just smiling. Ron had an arm around Hermione, beaming. Hermione looked quite happy, with her face flushed. "Who are they?"

"That's you, Harry, Ron and me," Hermione said, pointing to each one of them in turn.

"What?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. She grabbed the photo and was now looking at it up close. Now she could see the resemblance of the three friends. She still couldn't figure out why they thought this girl with dark brown hair and a laughing, round, happy face was her.

"We were in our sixth year. I had just gotten back from a trip, and we took this picture. We were so carefree and young," Hermione mused.

"What changed our attitudes? I mean, everyone seems so cynical and lifeless. Then I see this picture and wonder, 'What possibly could have happened to these kids to make them grow up faster than they had to?'" Elizabeth asked.

"You died. With you, a love so strong nobody thought it could die. With that love, hope died with a certain person. He became cold, distant, and unfeeling. Then, he just died. He's not in this picture, but he really loved you," Hermione replied. She told the truth up until "Then, he just died." Ginny had already told her about the lie. As much as Hermione hated being dishonest with her friend, she knew the good outweighed the bad in this situation.

She got up and left Elizabeth to her own devices.

'_So, he really is dead…_' she thought. '_That is going to take some getting used to. I guess I should try to remember Hermione. It seems like we were really good friends_.'

She closed her eyes and tried to remember brown curly hair…

"Dumbledore told you because he trusted you, and you betrayed him!" a head of unruly brown hair yelled.

Elizabeth shouted something, and then the girl with brown hair turned and yelled at someone who just walked into the compartment. After awhile, the girl turned back to Elizabeth. Then someone with red hair shut her up.

Elizabeth noticed her vision is a bit blurred in her memories, so she could only make out distinct colors, like hair. She opened her eyes and wondered how the girl and she became friends. She was woken up to a loud bell that next morning. She got up, got dressed and walked down the stairs.

Hermione had a table set up with large quantities of food placed upon the table. "The bell is much more convenient than going from room to room, banging at the door or yelling," she commented.

The days were the same. Getting up, eating, doing nothing, cleaning, eating, doing nothing, eating, sleeping. Elizabeth was finding this quite boring.

At about October the seventh, Harry, Ron, Hermione, James, and Elizabeth started getting the Tower ready for the Halloween party.

It took them about a week, but on October the fourteenth, the Weasley Tower looked like something from a horror film. Cobwebs were everywhere and overlarge spiders were flitting about their webs that covered 'out of bounds' areas, like places that weren't able to be cleaned.

On October the seventeenth, everyone had their own jobs. Elizabeth was to put the food out. Hermione opened to door for guests. Ron took their coats, and Harry manned the music.

It was an open house, and everyone was invited, though Elizabeth wasn't introduced to many.

There was a raffle for door prizes and some of the prizes were pretty nice. But, the fact that Fred and George supplied them changed Harry's, Hermione's, Ron's, and Elizabeth's minds about wanting them.

There was a ring, and it was just a blank band. Fred said that if you put it in fire, it won't melt, but words would form on the outside. Those who figured out how to read it would get a one-hundred galleon gift card to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Another thing was a necklace. Its pennant was odd, and George had said that it takes the wearer into a book. The book would write itself while you were having your adventures. He also mentioned something about a white animal that looked peculiarly like a dog, but it flew. He said it used to belong to a kid named Sebastian.

There was a tooth from the Norse god, Fenrir, Loki's son. Fred informed the quartet that if you were to hold it, and say some incantation, it would take you to a world where nothing is as it seems. Gods from all over created it so that they could stay away from human civilization. At least, that's what Fred said.

Then, everything else wasn't magical. Except for a couple buttons. The Witch's Buttons, George called them. There were flowers, vases, cauldrons, candy, robes, animals, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

Harry, knowing Fred and George, knew that the 'magical' items were probably not magical at all. The ring looked so boring, the necklace, not interesting. The tooth might have belonged to some Norse god's son, but it probably wouldn't take you to some new world.

People were in and out. They were going to be notified by owl if they won.

Harry was beginning to have a good time with Elizabeth, when Zacharias Smith came up to him.

"So, Harry, how are things and you're new found girlfriend?" he asked, looking at Elizabeth.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, seeing how you and Harry—"

"Smith, if I were you, I'd shut my mouth," Ron warned. He'd walked by the three of them the minute he saw Zacharias darken his doorway.

"Why?" he asked.

Ron pulled him over to the side before he told him anything.

"Did she dump him, or something?" Smith inquired morbidly.

"No, no…" Ron sighed before he told Smith the whole story.

As Zacharias listened with rapt attention, Ron was becoming unnerved. '_Since when does he care_?' he thought…

"Prizes!" George called out. It was time for the raffle.

"And the winner of the dozen roses is…Smith!" Fred announced.

Zacharias went to go grab them, but the minute he did, they exploded into a bunch of fireworks, singeing his eyebrows. The room burst forth in laughter as he stomped out of the party.

"Sorry, I simply could not resist," Fred told Ron.

"You've got an amazing sense of timing, you know," Ron commented.

"We know," George and Fred said at the same time.

The other prizes were handed out and Hermione decided it was time to tell Elizabeth what they were really celebrating with this Halloween party.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Hermione said with the sonorous curse. "Today, we are supposedly here to celebrate the most magical of holidays. But there is something else, that's happening on this very day."

"One of our number has just turned twenty-one!" she yelled.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. '_Awesome…I wonder who the lucky person is…_'

"Harry, if you could get the gifts, Ron, get the cake, and we'll all sing happy birthday," Hermione requested.

Harry got the small stack of presents and Ron brought out a purple and blue iced cake with two flowers on it. One was a gray-ish green rose and the other one was a purple daisy.

It said in black writing, 'Happy Twenty-first Birthday, Elizabeth!'

Elizabeth saw it and gasped. "Today's my birthday?" she asked Hermione.

"Yes…on the count of three, everyone!" Hermione commanded. "One…Two…Three!"

A loud chorus of 'Happy Birthday,' resounded in the large house. Elizabeth smiled her biggest.

"If I'm not mistaken, I think Hermione wants this to be a little child's birthday party," Ron whispered to Harry.

"That makes sense. Maybe she's rehearsing?" Harry added, sending a surreptitious look at Ron.

Ron snorted with a nervous laugh as he glanced at Hermione. Gifts were opened, laughs were shared, and a good time was had by all who just happened to be passing through.

On November, the twelfth, Hermione's water broke. Elizabeth and Harry followed her and Ron as they apparated to St. Mungo's.

Elizabeth and Harry waited in the lobby until Ron came out, a depressed look on his face.

"Ron? What's wrong?" Harry asked as he stood up.

"The boy…he was…dead," Ron stuttered. The entire world seemed to stop. Complete shock rested over their heads. It was so out of the blue, nobody quite knew how to handle it. Sure, adult death was expected. Child death was lamentable, but eventually understood. Infant death had no comfort. No solace in understanding. It simply shouldn't have happened. Harry did the only thing he could think of; he embraced him.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," he said softly.

Ron didn't emotionally explode, but he looked so downtrodden.

Hermione was still in intensive care. She got out and immediately; she ran to Ron and started sobbing. The life they had expected for so long. Gone. The young son that would have meant the world to them took the world with him. They broke apart in agonizing slowness, and Elizabeth went over to Hermione. The two women hugged and Elizabeth didn't say anything. When Hermione let go, Elizabeth put a steadying arm around her shoulder.

"Everything's going to be alright," Elizabeth reassured.

* * *

A/N: Wow. This story is still alive. Barely. Eh, good luck remembering everything. Sorry about the wait, guys. Ah who am I kiddin'? No one reads this any more. -sigh- Reviews appreciated. Not necessary.


	14. Big and Scaly Rabbits

Hermione tried to fake a smile as the first guest rang the door bell on Christmas day. 

"Hello!" came the greeting.

"Happy Christmas, Bill. Come in," Hermione said, seeing the rogue-looking Weasley with his fang earring and long hair. He never wanted to get rid of his old look.

He walked in and behind him were his wife, Fleur, and his two kids, a girl, about five years old, and a boy, about three. "Happy Christmas, Hermione. This is Gabriella and Jacques. And you know Fleur," Bill introduced.

"Yes, I do. Happy Christmas," Hermione said to Fleur.

"_Joyuex Noelle_," Fleur replied, flipping her silver hair back.

"Where's my youngest brother?" Bill asked.

"He's upstairs. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll get him," Hermione informed as she went to walk up the staircase.

"Ron!" she called. "Bill's here and he's asking for you!"

"Be right down," Ron replied.

Him and Harry were setting up a room on the top floor so that people could play quidditch inside. It was bitterly cold outside.

"Bill! Happy Christmas," Ron said on seeing his brother. They embraced and Ron said hello to Bill's family.

After awhile, the people started practically pouring in.

Everyone laughed and joked until Mrs. Weasley came with an extra guest.

"Ron, Hermione, Harry, Elizabeth, can you come in here, please?" Mrs. Weasley called.

The four of them walked into the front room from the den, where everyone was talking and reminiscing about old times (but being careful to not talk about Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts…).

With Mrs. Weasley was a tall bleach blonde woman with warm brown eyes.

"Everyone, this is Jean Eros. She's one of our cousins. My cousin, Gregory, died about a month ago, and Jean's got no family except us Weasleys, now," presented Mrs. Weasley. "Jean, this is Ron, his wife, Hermione, Harry, and Elizabeth."

"Are the four of you two couples?" Jean asked in a sweet voice.

Elizabeth flushed and muttered something about, "um…not me…no."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I embarrass you?" Jean asked like she was talking to a little child.

"No. I don't think you did. She's lost her memory a while back and she's a bit emotionally degraded, if you know what I mean," Harry explained.

Now, more than before, Jean sounded like she was talking to a small kid when she inquired, "Will you ever forgive me?"

"I hope you'll forgive me for this, but as much as I'm not at the emotional state of a twenty-one year old, I _am_ at the mental. I'm not retarded, you know," Elizabeth explained bluntly.

Jean looked appalled for about a minute, but then regained her composure. "My apologies. I just assumed…"

"I _know_ what you assumed. Assumptions don't sit well with me or on me. I'm not who I seem," Elizabeth stated.

"Well, I can't say I'm who I seem, either. I hope we could be friends overtime," Jean muttered.

Everyone went into the den and acquainted Jean with the rest of the Weasleys, and James. James took to her immediately.

At about four, Hermione wanted to start cooking. It took the five of them about three hours before it was done. Hermione, who was the chef of the day, assisted by Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Jean, and Elizabeth, yelled out to everyone, "Food's ready!"

They had about three tables. Two for the adults, and one for the kids.

Charlie had his twin daughters, six years old. Percy's wife had her son, who was about two. Add Bill's children sitting at the table, and two adults had to sit with them so they didn't cause any unnecessary problems.

"So, Harry, how are things going with you and Elizabeth?" George asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. We're friendly, but I don't think she's secure enough to be more until she thinks she's completely over _my_ 'death,'" Harry whispered.

"That has got to be some test of will power," Fred commented. "I don't know if I'd last this long if I were you."

"Well, Dumbledore told me that whatever happens, will happen in any matter of time. She will remember, soon, and when that time comes, I'll welcome her back with open arms," Harry promised, feeling like he was promising it more to himself than to Fred and George.

Everything went smoothly, and soon, it was time for the kids to go to sleep, and the adults to play card games.

Early in the morning, people started drifting out. Harry and Ron were disappointed that none of them wanted to play quidditch, but everyone was much too tired.

Elizabeth considered that if that Christmas party didn't cheer the four of them up, nothing ever would. Well, it did cheer them up, and soon, Harry and Ron's partnership was over.

They had to go back to regular work two months after the Christmas party. Since James wanted to be an Auror, too, Harry became his Mentor, though Harry was only almost one year out of Auror training. Harry's old mentor, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had been proud to teach Harry everything he knew after he aced all the classes, all though, he really disapproved of Harry's lifestyle. That didn't stop until the day before Ron and his partnership started.

"What about the Lestranges? Are they still at large?" Harry asked the main secretary, Willa Freedman, who was reading over the memos the department accumulated over his leave of absence.

Harry revolutionized the way this office was run. He was part of Tracking and Location. Every witch and wizard in this office knew how to use a phone and a computer, and because of it, the department was the most efficient of Auror sections.

"There's nothing in here that suggested they are or not, and I've looked over these about five times each while you were gone," she replied. She pushed her slim cat-eye glasses up her bulb-like nose while she looked over a few notes, once again.

"Thanks, anyway, Willa," Harry said.

She nodded her thin face and went back to organizing the files.

Harry looked at his inbound tray and winced. There was quite a pile. As he picked up a sample of 'Norwegian Finest Dragon Manure Plant Food, courtesy of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,' from his tray, Willa's phone rang, and she picked it up.

"Department of Tracking and Location, how may I help you?" A minute of silence as the person on the other side of the line replied. "Are you sure you don't want me to direct you to the head of our division? Alright then, one moment, please." She paused for a minute.

"Harry, there's a man on the phone, he says he's got something you might want to know about," Willa informed.

Harry nodded and picked up his phone.

"Harry Potter?" an elderly voice asked.

"This is he," Harry answered.

"There are rumors, here in Dublin. An odd man is walking about, and no one knows who he is. He doesn't talk to anyone. Ever since he's been here, real strange things have been happening. My neighbor said she saw her dead son strolling in the park in the moonlight. Now, I understand her eyes are not so good, but you can't mistake that boy for anyone else if you've seen him. A couple more people have talked to me in my shop, telling me how they've seen dead people that are up and about, and one of them even said they saw a young, dead woman around Diagon Alley, in London. I don't know if this has anything to do with the odd man, but I'd like to talk to you to see what you make of this, Mr. Potter," the old man said.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but this is Tracking and Location, not…"

"But, Mr. Potter, are you not a dark wizard catcher?" the man interrupted.

"Yes, I am, but that's besides the point…"

"Well, us here in Ireland have reason to believe that this odd man is a dark wizard."

He sighed as he thought about what to do. "If you can get his name and his appearance, owl them to me and I'll see what I can do," Harry promised. He wiped his face as a sign of exhaustion as the man sent his gratitude and hung up.

'_When are people ever going to learn_,' Harry thought as he started to work on his inbound tray, '_That just because someone's not real talkative or optimistic doesn't mean that they're dark wizards_.'

Harry finished his paperwork and looked at his watch. '_Twelve-thirty…blimey! I was supposed to meet Ron at the Leaky Cauldron a half hour ago…_'

He got up and apparated to the little pub that was the Leaky Cauldron.

"Where've you been, mate?" Ron asked worriedly as Harry sat down across from his old friend.

"One word," Harry sighed.

"Paperwork," Ron finished for him. He handed him one of the mugs that was set on the table.

"Besides that, some loon wants me to go to Dublin to check out this 'odd man.' Probably just a tourist who doesn't like to chat…"

"You got one of them, too?" Ron interjected.

"What do you mean? Too?"

"Someone owled Azkaban. Asking if their were any breakouts. Said that there was this bloke in Ireland that seemed real shady. They mentioned the fact that dead people seemed to be—"

"Walking about, as though alive."

"Right," Ron affirmed.

At the same time, Harry and Ron blurted out the same question. "Do you know if anyone else except us knew about Elizabeth coming back from the dead?"

"So, they told you about that, too?" Harry inquired.

Ron nodded, and went back to his drink.

"How are things at Azkaban?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Same as ever. We've got little ones on the way, you know," Ron informed. He was talking about dragon eggs.

"Again? Honestly, if dragons weren't so big and scaly, I'd call them rabbits," Harry joked.

"I know. I had to transfer one of them back to their original herd. She never guarded the prison. She just went around, doing her thing, then had to take care of the eggs," Ron laughed.

Then, as if all the problems of the adult life slipped away, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley joked around like they were thirteen, once more.


	15. The Diary and Flight

Elizabeth was getting used to looking through the many rooms of Weasley Tower, just for something to do. She felt awful, thinking that she was mooching off Ron and Hermione. She confronted them about it, and she had to explain to them what mooching was before they told her that they didn't mind the extra body in the huge castle of a house.

She found pieces of history in the old house that no one seemed to know about. Of course, Ron and Hermione just bought the house on impulse, and having enough money supporting it, made the house into their home. They tended to stay on the first two floors and the top floor (where Ron set up his indoor quidditch field).

As Elizabeth dug around a newly discovered room (this was a surprise. More than a few times, Elizabeth thought she'd found the last of the new rooms), she noticed a diary. It wasn't magical—to Elizabeth's disappointment—but she felt like reading it, anyway. She opened it to the middle of the diary, to find it blank. She flipped the pages back to find the last page the person had written on.

'_Mandalynn Hades - October 30, 1711_

_What have I done? My life, or what I thought was my life, has turned for the worst. Tomorrow, a child shall be born of my blood. An evil child. Satan's child. He will govern hell as I know it. And he will be born of my blood. His name, as I was instructed, will be Morpheus, and he shall inherit the sinister gift of metamorphmagism. _

_I had no choice. He made me. At nine months marks the morrow, I had forgotten to attend the Lord's Mass in my feverish illness. In my illness, he came to me. He took control of me. Torturing me. Telling me I had to bear his heir. I begged for mercy. I prayed and he tortured me more._

_'God dost not listen to you,' he says, 'He has forsaken you and you are mine.' At these last words, such pain as I had never known came down and entered my weakened corpse. _

_I was then born again, to a new life. I awakened, and a fake health was restored to my once-withered body. The townspeople would tell me after that I had an unnatural glow to my skin and hair. _

_They had thought it to be a warm glow…ha! I was cold, forever cold, after that encounter. It was as if I was abandoned, marked, as one for the service to the evil bane of the world's existence. _

_What am I doing about it, you ask? Nothing. He told me, that if I were to commit suicide, to kill the child within me, I would be sent to him, and he would make my afterlife worse than what was possible in any worlds. The child would then be born to some other unsuspecting virgin and I would watch as the next girl was corrupted. As she screamed as I had screamed. Bled as I had bled. _

_I give in. I do not want any other girl to harbor this pain. In theory, this makes me a martyr; in truth, this makes me a coward. Martyrs make it to the Lord's Mass, even if they are bedridden with sickness. I am no martyr. I am but a weak and helpless woman who can not do anything about her plight…_'

Elizabeth couldn't bear to read anymore. She slammed the diary, which was so filled with pain, closed.

'_Do things like this really happen_?' she thought.

Elizabeth couldn't tell if the woman was witch or muggle. '_It would make perfect sense if she was a witch, but then, why wouldn't she be able to do anything about the kid_?'

If she was correct, the boy's name would have been Morpheus Hades…Elizabeth shuddered. She got up and left the now sinister-feeling room.

"Hermione?" Elizabeth asked, once Hermione got home from her job.

"Hmm?" she responded.

"What's metamorphmagism?"

"It's where the person can change their looks, like their hair, their face, whatever. But they can't change themselves into anything other than a humanoid shape," she explained.

"I see," Elizabeth muttered as she mused about the diary. '_That would explain why his name was Morpheus_,' she thought. '_Boy, Satan had _no_ creativity_.' She smiled inwardly at her joke about the devil.

Every once and awhile, Harry would come to visit. He and Elizabeth were getting really close. Elizabeth found herself waiting for those days she would see him.

Dumbledore, himself, went to visit Harry in his flat to make sure he was alright.

"Professor, I assure you, I'm quite fine…"

"Are things getting better?" Dumbledore asked.

"With Elizabeth? Yes. She's warming up to me, now. I think she's starting to feel all those things she felt before. I'm not sure, though…"

"Just be careful, Harry. Evil is stirring. I suspect that you might want to listen to that one call you received when you returned to your office," Dumbledore advised.

"The one where the man wanted me to go to Ireland?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Now then, I am satisfied that you are flourishing under the current circumstances. I will go. I'm happy to see you looking well, Harry. Good bye," said Dumbledore.

"Good bye, Professor," replied Harry as Dumbledore walked out of his apartment. Harry had an anti-disapparation jinx on his apartment.

Around April, Hermione found out she was pregnant, again. Elizabeth was by her side when Ron couldn't get there, and helped her through a lot of the beginning depression and despair. Hermione was worried that this child was going to die, also.

Elizabeth was getting confused. Harry would stop by once a week. She noticed her feelings festering and growing into something she couldn't explain. She felt helpless about her situation with her memory and she knew she could do nothing. It was eating at her thoughts and dreams. She just couldn't just love Harry like a normal person, possibly because she _wasn't_ a normal person. Of course, loving him would have been the next logical step in their relationship, but Elizabeth felt frightened to take that step. Uncertainty made her restless.

One night, she just couldn't take it. She woke up, after a dream of watching someone's death (her own), and got out of bed. She got dressed in muggle clothes. She grabbed her trunk and started packing as quietly as she could move. When she was all ready, she clutched her trunk and broom and headed downstairs. She snuck around to the potions cabinet that Hermione used. She put her things down as she opened the cupboard.

"Beelzebulb, Beelzebulb…where is it?" she muttered desperately as she looked for the infamous vine. "Ah ha!" she whispered in triumph. She took a small, skinny box, labeled '_Beelzebulb_,' and, getting her things, Elizabeth walked out of Weasley Tower into the night.

Harry woke up to a glorious morning, with sunlight pouring through his window. He tried imagining he was still at Weasley Tower, but he knew he was in his flat in London. He could imagine Elizabeth waking up late, and Hermione still waiting for her to go down to breakfast. Hermione would be giving Ron coffee, something she introduced him to.

'_Right,_' he thought, '_I have the day off, today._' He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses. Anyone who knew him would know where he was going on a day such as this. He got dressed and walked out his door. Then he apparated to Weasley Tower.

"Hermione, what are we to do? Look for her?" Ron asked.

"She's not a child, Ron. If she wants to leave, that's her decision. We should have expected her to go. Did you see how flustered she was after Harry's last visit?"

"That doesn't matter. She's not _stable_." Ron argued. "Harry's going to have a fit…"

Then there was a knock at their door.

"Oh no," Ron moaned.

"Don't worry. It's probably her right now," Hermione reassured as she walked to the door.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Harry asked with a lopsided grin.

"Actually, yes. We were. Come in, come in. Would you like anything to drink?" Hermione rambled.

"What's with the formalities?" Harry asked as he stepped through the doorway. He immediately knew something was wrong.

"You should sit down, Harry," Ron said with a false lightness.

"What's going on? Where's Elizabeth? Still Sleeping? I should've known. She'll sleep through the end of the world and not even notice it…"

"Harry," Hermione said slowly. "Elizabeth's gone."

Harry felt his chest deflate. He couldn't believe it. He _wouldn't_ believe it. She couldn't be gone. She can't die…

"She's not dead, Harry," said Ron, "She left in the middle of the night."

"Where'd she go?" Harry asked.

"We don't know. She took her trunk and she took one of the plants from my potions cupboard," Hermione explained.

"Which plant?" Ron questioned. Hermione hadn't told him that.

"One of the vines of Beelzebulb," Hermione answered.

"You're kidding," said Harry. When he was in Auror training, one of the more crucial points was 'never trust a thing that can think if you can't see where it keeps its brain.' Of course, Arthur Weasley had told Ginny that when Harry was in his second year, and he remembered it ever since. It surprised him that Elizabeth could be so foolish as to even think of using the evil plant for a get-away.

"No. This is no joke," Hermione said solemnly.

"What do we do?" Ron asked for the second time.

"Well, she _is_ above the legal age to do what she wishes. If we really wanted to see her again, I guess we'd have to…"

"Hermione, listen. Elizabeth is _not_ mature enough to make a life for herself from scratch without anything. She's still seventeen, mentally. We have to find her. I'll add her to the list of missing persons and get to work on locating her," Harry snapped.

"But if she's left the country, then we can't do anything to bring her back…"

"The legal age in the States is eighteen. We can hope she went there, and then we'd be able to bring her back…"

"Harry, mate, if she doesn't want to come back, then what's the use?" Ron asked slowly.

"What makes you think she won't want to come back?" Harry inquired fiercely.

"It's not like she was captured or something, Harry. She left of her own free will…"

"Then I'm going to find her to ask her," Harry said resolutely.

Hermione shook her head. She could tell that Harry did not understand _why_ Elizabeth departed. "I have a feeling she wants to be alone…"

"She'll be alone," Harry retorted, "Until I find her and bring her back."

"You can't keep her locked up here! She hated it! I'm surprised she didn't leave before this!" Hermione yelled.

Harry looked like he had been struck in the face. That's exactly what he had done to her. Locked her up in this monster of a house with visits from him once a week. Like an animal. Realization stung and left a bitter taste in his mouth as he now understood why Dumbledore had kept him and Sirius locked away from the outside world. For his own good. And he had just done the same thing to Elizabeth. The very thing he hated.

"How could I have been so stupid?!" Harry slapped himself in the forehead.

"That's not the only reason why she disappeared," Hermione started. "Apparently, her memories hadn't recovered, yet. She simply loathes being helpless, and when she is, it leads her to do reckless things…"

"She does reckless things, anyway," Ron cut in.


	16. Home, and the Beginning of the End

Elizabeth smiled as she flew over the little cul-de-sac that used to hold her home. She wondered if her parents still lived there. She landed on the edge of the driveway and walked to the front of the house. Elizabeth untied the vine from her wrist and smoothed out her shirt. She gingerly knocked on the door.

She heard a something barking from inside the little house as an elderly woman opened the door.

"Hello, can I help you?" she asked.

"Mom?" Elizabeth muttered. A little Saluki puppy came from behind the woman and wagged its tail at Elizabeth.

"Who are you?" the woman asked as her eyes narrowed behind bifocals.

"It's Elizabeth, Mom," Elizabeth informed. Her eyes were tearing. How many days had she wished to see her mother?

"But you're dead," her mother said quietly.

"I don't understand it anymore than you do, Mom. Just know that I'm here, now." Elizabeth hugged her mother.

"Willa, any news on my side?" Harry asked the secretary impatiently.

"Harry, you asked me that five minutes ago. Nothing has come in since then. We'll not know where she is until we can conduct an international search and we don't have a reason good enough to resort to those drastic measures," she explained with pity. She had watched as Harry almost sunk into the old way he used to live, but a grim determination had set in and that was all he would think about.

Harry, lost in plots and schemes to find Elizabeth, looked like he was looking at his paperwork, but he really wasn't.

"Harry, I can tell you're not paying attention. Maybe you should go try that mission Dumbledore recommended," she suggested.

"You mean, go to Ireland and look for some tourist?" Harry retorted.

"Yes. And if you don't, I'll give you a suspension. You can't work under these conditions…"

"Can you give suspensions?" Harry interrupted.

"I can very well request one for you if you don't get your head out of the clouds and start paying attention to what you're doing or go on that Ireland trip. Maybe a change of scenery will do you some good."

"Some people asked me why I'm friends with such an easygoing secretary. I ask myself why I'm friends with such a stubborn secretary," Harry mumbled to himself as he looked through his schedule and trying to clear it up.

After a few days, Elizabeth noticed something odd in the English paper she was having secretly delivered to her American Home.

'_Harry Potter to go on Irish Expedition_' was the headline. Elizabeth read through it and shrugged it off. She didn't understand it, but she didn't even want to think about Harry Potter for awhile.

"Good bye, Harry. Don't forget, Elizabeth could be in Ireland, but don't go _looking_ for her," Hermione reminded.

"Thanks, 'Mione." Harry hugged her.

"See you in about three months, mate." Ron shook Harry's hand.

"Bye, you two." Harry waved as he entered the British Airport.

Elizabeth was visiting Diagon Alley, knowing that Harry was not going to be there. She came really close to dating an old crush from her teens when she realized something. '_It won't be the same as dating Harry_.'

Since Elizabeth couldn't remember dating Harry, the origin of that thought was unknown to her, but in that moment, she knew, down in her heart, that she would love no one but Harry. Deny it, she tried, but when she came so close to justifying why she didn't, she saw his face ever so clearly in her memories of happiness; being in his arms, running her hand through his mess of black hair, comforting him, and just plain being there for him. Try as she might, she couldn't remember what his kisses were like, though. She knew that if he were to kiss her, it would all come back to her. Either that, or he just never kissed her before.

So, Elizabeth was here, in Diagon Alley, reminiscing about the times she _could_ remember when she heard a familiar voice she wasn't expecting.

"Hello, there," he said.

"Harry? I thought you're supposed to be in Ireland?" Elizabeth asked she turned around to see a pair of green eyes staring at her.

"I decided to come back," he replied.

"Why?" Elizabeth questioned.

"Because," Harry replied. He wrapped his arms around Elizabeth's waist and pulled her into a kiss.

'_This is so new and strange…I guess I've never kissed Harry. I'm quite sure I'd remember if I had_,' went through Elizabeth's mind as Harry turned the kiss more passionate, and then she lost all thought.

She felt like she was spinning and falling. Only when it stopped while they were still kissing did Elizabeth realize the literal meaning behind the spinning and falling feeling.

Harry stopped and gazed into Elizabeth's eyes. Then, he began to change shape.

Elizabeth screamed and pulled away. They were no longer in the streets of Diagon Alley. They were in a room.

When Elizabeth was about five feet away, she noticed that this was not Harry.

"Who are you?" she asked the man. He had black and purple hair. His eyes were red, his face pale. His skin was sallow, his face long, skinny, and gaunt.

"I am the Morpher Hades," he answered simply.

"Well, hello, the Morpher Hades. Would you mind telling me why you changed into the man I love, kissed me, then brought me to this room?" she asked.

"Because you are part of this game I so effortlessly planned and executed. _Stupefy_," Morpher cursed.

Elizabeth, stunned and unable to move, fell backwards onto the floor. Morpher grabbed his invisibility cloak off the floor and covered her with it. Then he moved her to a corner of the room.

'_Time for the second part of my plan…_' he thought as he disapparated.

The real Harry Potter was in Dublin, Ireland, looking for this dark wizard named Morpheus Hades. His name sounded weird enough, but he called himself something even odder. He called himself, 'the Morpher Hades.' Harry guess it was just some phase this guy was going through.

He started thinking about Elizabeth, somewhere in this world, all alone, sitting with her back, straight as a rail, eyes that looked so saddened by a past life that also looked like the earth from outer space…

"Harry!" called out someone. Harry turned around to see James running to him.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"It's Elizabeth. She's been found!" James explained.

"What? Will Dumbledore understand if I skip this to go to her?" Harry questioned. His pulse quickened. Where had she been? Did she decide to come back?

"Yes, in fact, Dumbledore encourages you to go to her. I've got a portkey to Ron and Hermione's house. It's to go off in fifteen minutes…"

"I can just apparate. It'll be much faster…"

"No! You're not supposed to! You can't Apparate from different countries!"

"Er…I can go by Floo Powder," Harry bargained. He was a bit suspicious of portkeys. He'd been that way ever since the end of his fourth year.

"Harry! Would you stop being thick? Floo doesn't go farther than inside a country's boundary lines. I'm sorry, mate. I know you hate to use them, but it's the only way," James said desperately. "Think about it. What's more important? Breaking the laws of magic, or finally seeing the girl you've been missing!"

"You're right. Of course, Elizabeth is more important," Harry muttered.

"Then follow me, Potter," James demanded. They walked to a forest and entered it.

"Grab on," James directed.

"I know what to do," Harry retorted. His breathing was shallow and his mind was racing. Questions were echoing about his head.

Harry closed his eyes and felt the jerk behind his naval. What he didn't see, with his shut eyes, was James let go of the portkey and disapparated to another place, where he was to be waiting.

When it stopped, Harry reopened his eyes. He looked around, and saw that he was alone, with no one near him. He was in some sort of room. Where the house was that the room was in, Harry couldn't say.

The room was gray and bleak. Harry thought it was somewhat familiar. He couldn't quite place it, though.


End file.
